


Strange Bedfellows

by spellwing777



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Now with fingering!, Porn with too much plot, Seduction, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwing777/pseuds/spellwing777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a FRkinkmeme that got WAY TOO DAMN LONG. I swear, they will fuck. I will get there eventually, even if it kills me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your threesome, as ordered. It comes with a side order of a soup and salad.

**Author's Note:**

> An answer to this prompt (http://frkinkmeme.livejournal.com/735.html?thread=64479#t64479) over on the FRkinkmeme. Yes, we do have one. Their is a kinkmeme for everything now.

Sometimes, Jarlaxle was disposed to believe in what many called ‘the irony gods’.  
  
Else-wise, how could this have possibly happened? Of all the possible missions they both could have taken, both had chosen this one, both had been hired to do it. Also, the employer had threatened to send in his own troops if they didn’t work together, and they all knew how disastrous that would be in such a delicate situation like this.  
  
Needless to say, this mission was going to be...tedious.  
  
The daughter and son of two respective kings had decided to fall in love with each other and elope to a neighboring third country. In their young stupidity, this had nearly caused a war of epic proportion, and both the Companions of the Hall (minus Bruenor and Regis), and the two Sellswords, had been tasked to retrieve the idiotic children and return them to their irate fathers. So it now fell to two groups that were nearly at war with each other; distrust thick on both sides.  
  
The distrust was thickest between Entreri and Drizzt.  
  
It had been a great deal of time since they had last seen each other; and they had truly moved on. Entreri had believed the other man was dead, and was now just beginning to find a meaning to life other than perfecting his skills. Drizzt, secure in the knowledge that Entreri thought he was dead, had stopped thinking about him entirely. However, neither of them knew that about each other, and this encounter brought back nothing but memories of either lying on the floor with a gaping hole in the chest; or seeing the most soul-crushing, disappointing end to years of obsession.  
  
The rest of them were watching Entreri with bated breath. Jarlaxle especially; he’d seen the man’s depth of fixation with Drizzt firsthand, and was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t revert back to that.  
  
\---  


Strangely enough, he didn’t.  
  
Instead, he avoided the ranger like the plague. If Drizzt came into a room, he left it. If he came within a certain distance, he walked away. He didn’t speak to him, didn’t look at him, seemed to be ignorant of the fact that he was there. Drizzt felt confused; the assassin was putting great effort into avoiding him. And besides his gruffness, he was a model member of the group. He did as he was asked, offered a suggestion or two, and put a respectful distance between himself, Catti-brie, and Wulfgar as well. Jarlaxle was astonished as well; never had he seen the man behave so...well. Normally, when they were paired up with other people he would be quite hostile, but here it seemed he was actually making an effort.  
  
Catti-Brie watched him vigilantly. She was not only being protective, but curious. It had been many years since they had seen him, and despite her friends doubts to the contrary, she was sure that he had changed. No one stayed the same over the years; people grew and evolved. What she wanted to know was how much he had changed and  _what_  had changed. She was a perceptive, intelligent woman, and years of practice with the stone-faced Drizzt had taught her much about reading people. She fell into the practice of watching him in her peripheral vision; to fool him into thinking he wasn’t being observed.  
  
She learned a few strange things about him. For one, he would secretly stare at Drizzt with an expression that varied from puzzlement, to shame. Two, he would stare off at an imaginary speck on the wall for minuets at a time, like he was trying to work his way toward an epiphany. Lastly, when there was no one near him and she pretended to be busy, his face would drop and he would sag in his chair, looking for all the world like a lost man; eye’s flat and glazed, shoulders stooped with weary resignation.  
  
“I canna figure him out.” She sighed to Drizzt, slipping into her dwarven accent. “But ah am sure that he willnae bother you. He’s got other issues.”  
  
“Perhaps he is acting?” He frowned. He knew she was an excellent judge of character and people’s intentions; but he wasn’t ready to give up the idea that he was up to something.  
  
“Nay Drizzt.” She shook her head. “What’s botherin’ him I feel does have somthin’ to do with you, but nothin’ to do with attackin’ you. Or any of us. I think he jus’ wants tae be left alone.”  
  
Drizzt frowned. “I think we should find out what his intentions truly are, before making assumptions.”  
  
“I can only find out so much by snoopin’.” She said. “Yeh jus’ gonna hafta ask him iffen yah want more.”  
  
\---

At first, he left it at that. But as the weeks went by and he grew increasingly frustrated at the lack of evidence for either Catti-Brie’s theory or his own, he started to begin to actively come closer to the assassin by pairing up with him in the attempts to get information on the couple’s whereabouts. While he still radiated an air of ‘go away’, but he didn’t actively try to deny him tagging along, and still gave no signs of wanting to attack him.   
  
However, it all came to a head when-even Drizzt admitted later-he’d pushed too far. He’d effectively trapped the man in a corner like a rat in a trap, and was pestering him with meaningless questions about the recent information he’d gathered. Finally, Entreri had enough.  
  
_“_ What do you want from me?” He snapped.   
  
Drizzt leaned back in surprise at the outburst; then his eye’s hardened. “You can’t guess?”  
  
“I don’t want to fight you!”  
  
“How can I be sure?” He snapped, voice dripping with suspicion.   
  
“I want nothing to do with you! I-” He practically danced on the spot with frustration. “I was obsessed, blind! I was so focused on you that I couldn’t see how...how I was acting. Now it’s like I broke through a fever, a sickness. I don’t want to...to go back to what I was.” He shuddered, teeth clenched around the shame coating his tongue. Every time he was near the drow he was reminded of how like a frenzied mad man he’d acted; he’d lost control of himself and allowed this man to get under his skin. When he’d gotten over the ranger’s death, it was like a fog had been lifted from his mind, allowing him to think clearly again. And looking back, he loathed the way he’d acted.  
  
Drizzt felt anger coursing through him; he stepped dangerously close. “After hunting me like an animal and threatening my friends you just expect me to just  _leave you_ -”  
  
“GO AWAY!”  
  
The breath wuffed out of his lungs as he was hammered in the midsection by Entreri’s shoulder; they landed in a tangle on the floor, and Entreri scrambled to get off. Drizzt latched on, however, not wanting him to have enough room to draw his weapons. The two rolled on the floor, struggling and kicking, Entreri doing his best to try to wriggle away, Drizzt resolutely clinging on and trying to pin him. Despite the assassin’s desperation and superior weight, he was slowly winning, having been taught wrestling by the best teacher; Bruenor. He finally managed to get pin him; the man gasping like a landed fish under him, arms locked behind his back, when the rest of the group burst in.  
  
“What happened?” Jarlaxle immediately asked.  
  
“He attacked me!” Drizzt snapped.  
  
Any further explanations were stalled when Entreri started roaring like a trapped bear.  
  
“GO AWAY!” He screamed. “I don’t want to fight you and I want nothing to do with your blasted friends!”  
  
He gasped for a few moments; then went limp.   
  
“If I ever see you again after this damn mission, it will be too soon.” He muttered, voice muffled.  
  
“Drizzt, let him up.” Catti-Brie pleaded, trying to solve this peacefully. He gave her an incredulous look. “Please.”  
  
He paused, then rolled off, jerking upright and unsheathing his swords, preparing for an attack he was sure would come; but Entreri just lay there. He finally stirred, getting up slowly, and shot him a glare of hatred and frustration.  
  
“Leave. Me. <i> _Alone </i>_.” He ground out.  
  
Then, giving everyone a wide berth, he slunk out the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An answer to this prompt (http://frkinkmeme.livejournal.com/735.html?thread=64479#t64479) over on the FRkinkmeme. Yes, we do have one. Their is a kinkmeme for everything now.
> 
> EDIT: I should probably explain, just in case some of you are confused that Wulfgar is alive, Cattie-Brie is married to him instead of getting it on with Drizzt, and the events where Entreri captured Regis are never mentioned. THIS IS AN AU. Regis was never kidnapped by Entreri; Entreri instead chose to skip over two books and ally himself with Jarlaxle and Drizzt’s sister straightaway to get his final battle with Drizzt. Which lead to Entreri not impersonating Regis and the wedding getting canceled and the weird ooc’ness with Wulfgar suddenly regressing into his misogynistic view and Catti-Brie mackin’ on Drizzt etc., etc., _etc._
> 
> (Personally, I think it was Entreri in a Regis disguise using the jewel to manipulate the companions to result in that mess; otherwise I despair at Salvatore’s skill’s at character consistency.)
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> We still have the whole bit with Drizzt running back to Menzo’ like an idiot, the attack on the hall, and Jarlaxle getting distracted by the crystal; but with significantly less dead barbarians, bizarre wedding jitters, and Halflings getting their thumbs cut off. I’m a little fuzzy on details, but I suspect you care much more about the pron than my rambling.


	2. We talk better with swords in our hands (this is not a euphemism)

For a while, he did leave the man alone. After talking it over with Catti-Brie, he realized that he’d pushed too hard; that he was trying to get away, not attack. Eventually, Catti-Brie’s disappointment at him provoking the man and his own guilt at losing his self-control, he sought Entreri out. He could see the man bristling from a mile away as he cornered him yet again, and he tried to keep his posture as nonthreatening as possible.

“I wish to talk to you.” Drizzt stopped at a respectful distance. “I will not push you, or press you, I only wish to talk. Leave if you must; I won’t corner you.”

Entreri eyed him. “...Talk.”

“I want a...truce.” Drizzt said slowly. “I will not provoke you or attempt to attack you, and will respect your privacy while we work. But we can’t avoid each other forever; we’ll have to work together.”

“What are you proposing?” He snapped.

“To learn about each other.” He said. “To learn what we are each capable of so if we are paired up we can plan around those skills.” 

This was the explanation he gave; and while he was trying to correct his own mistake and please Catti-Brie, they also did need to work together. It was very likely that they were going to have to work as a pair; their fighting styles complemented each other’s very well and together they would be formidable. 

Entreri considered this. He recognized the subtle apology and understood why he was making it, and also saw the solid reasoning in the ‘truce’ he was proposing. He bristled considerably less now; but still felt reluctant.

“...Sparring?” He said cautiously; not really wanting to suggest it, but knowing it was likely the best way to learn about the other man’s capabilities.

“A good way, but not strictly necessary.” Drizzt said soothingly, providing an out. He could see Entreri was not enthusiastic about it.

“The best way.” He said, grimacing. “We don’t have time for others.”

Drizzt nodded. They then discussed the conditions (how far one could push, how long they would battle) and agreed on not only sparring each other, but Entreri sparring Wulfgar and Catti-Brie if they agreed so that he could learn to better match his fighting style to theirs as well.

\---  
At first, the rest of them had been less than enthusiastic about it; but eventually conceded to the idea. Jarlaxle was the first to agree, seeing the logic in it, and claimed first sparring with Drizzt.

They chose the open space behind the inn, as it was semi-private, and was a dirt field pepperd with grass and devoid of any stones. As good a place as any, even if it did get a little stifling in the harsh glare of the evening sun. Jarlaxle’s anticipation was unaffected by the heat, and he stepped out on the field.

“I have been eager to cross blades with Zak’s protégé.” He said, elongating his daggers into shortswords; earning him a few raised eyebrows at the display. “I promise to only use my blades in this battle; none of my tricks.”

“Of which there are many.” Entreri muttered under his breath. Jarlaxle grinned.

They began to circle. “Did you cross blades with my father?”

“Often.” He smiled. “I loved to spar with-”

Drizzt lunged, catching him off guard. 

Jarlaxle recovered quickly enough, however, and blocked the swing. Laughing in delight, he waded into battle with the ranger, enjoying himself immensely. They wove around each other, dodging blades and underhanded blows. Jarlaxle was still smiling, but Drizzt noticed it was a different smile now; a warm smile, a smile of affection, and he had the feeling he wasn’t really looking at him, but through him. 

...Like he was looking at someone else.

“You are ever so much like your father.” Jarlaxle sighed, during a lull in the fight. “You use his techniques and even some of his signature moves!”

Drizzt had never truly believed that Jarlaxle had personally known his father before, and just said that to attempt to win his confidence; but he was starting to wonder. He mused over it, gears turning. 

\---  
Why would Jarlaxle say that he knew his father to get into his good graces? Among drow, such ties were meaningless; saying ‘I knew your father’ was paramount to saying ‘I knew your pet lizard’. No drow-save for Drizzt and his cruel mother-had known about his close relationship to his father. Not to mention that his father had been revealed to be a traitor to the drow way of life; no one wanted to be associated with that. Also, his father had never mentioned any drow by the name Jarlaxle. It made no sense.

He cut the thoughts off and turned the subject of the conversation. “And what moves did you use to counter them?”

Jarlaxle stepped forward, undisturbed by the abrupt change in subject. He knew that he’d gotten the younger drow thinking, and that was good enough, for now. Smirking confidently, he changed his stance.

“This is a technique that I created to suit him; it caused him no end of annoyance.”

They began once again; this time Drizzt was baffled and amused at the same time.

“Swashbuckling style?” 

“Don’t mock it ‘till you’ve tried it.”

That got a surprised laugh out of him, and he fought back with renewed vigor; and he was finding himself more pressed to defend himself. The style was immensely deceptive; for the flashy moves and exaggerated poses hid a complex interlocking strategy of both defense and offense seemingly tailored for him. Drizzt was astonished to find some of the best techniques he’d learned bounce off of him without any effect. Jarlaxle’s nostrils flared, scenting victory. Off to the side, Entreri tensed, astonished that this drow looked like he might actually be able to defeat his former rival; or at the very least win a tie.

But despite his situation, Drizzt still smiled.

“You seem to be in a desperate situation.” Jarlaxle quipped. “Why do you smile so?” 

“Perhaps because I know something that you don’t.”

“Oh?” Jarlaxle strained eagerly. “And what is that?”

Instead of saying, he chose to demonstrate. Jarlaxle stumbled back as he was treated to a furious series of blows, then gaped in astonishment as his blades were tangled together, then ripped from his grasp.

“That,”* Drizzt whipped a blade up to prick at his exposed throat. “-I did not learn everything just from my father.”

Standing there, hands empty and having to swallow carefully lest he nick his throat on the blade, Jarlaxle was impressed. Seeing his skills tested against Entreri was one thing, experiencing it firsthand...his face broke out into another wide smile. When Drizzt lowered his blade, he laughed heartily and clapped his hands together like a child seeing a show at the fair.

“Oh, well done!” He chortled. “You are your father’s son, but I daresay you might have surpassed him!”

Drizzt couldn’t resist; he smiled and bowed a little, flattered. 

“Might have?” He teased.

“Well,” Jarlaxle grinned. “I might be biased towards your father. After all, I knew him better.”

Jarlaxle looked him over hopefully. “But, perhaps I can get to know the son?”

Drizzt paused; then decided to throw the begging dog a bone. 

“Perhaps.” His lip twitched slightly in amusement.

Jarlaxle crowed in pleasure. “I shall take that as a hopeful ‘yes’.”

\---

They continued to spar, switching partners occasionally. Entreri won out easily against Catti-Brie and Wulfgar, and had an interesting (and amusing) bout with Jarlaxle; but then hung back, watching from the sidelines. Other than that, he refused to have anything else to do with the sparring.

Jarlaxle won against Catti-Brie, but neglected to keep his mouth shut after. Making a loaded sexual comment about her was a dangerous thing to do when one’s back was turned; as Jarlaxle discovered. One moment he’d been flush with victory; then the floor decided to fly up and hit him in the face.

Catti-Brie went to stand next to him. “Hey, can’t be lyin’ down on the job. Some of us got work tae do.” 

“Yes m’am.” He said humbly. He got up and brushed himself off; glaring at Entreri, who was sitting relaxed under the shade of a nearby tree. He was obviously making an effort not to laugh out loud. He strode over to him with as much dignity as he could muster, and said;

“Glad to see that you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Immensely.” 

Entreri’s good mood vanished as Drizzt walked up to him. 

“Entreri.”

It was only three syllables, but it carried a weight of meaning behind it. Somehow, it managed to convey a lecturing tone; full of annoyance, disappointment, and general frustration.

“Drizzt.” He mocked.

He restrained his annoyance, and gestured towards the sparring field. “Shall we?”

The others gathered around, the previous light mood that Jarlaxle had worked hard to cultivate gone, replaced by anxiety. The two seized each other up; both nervous but concealing it from the other. Drizzt drew his swords and braced himself; he was well aware how their last fight had ended, and it was not a pleasant memory. He may not act like the man he was before; but Drizzt was not convinced that he wouldn’t revert to that state at the first opportunity.

But Entreri didn’t draw his blades. Drizzt was surprised when his gaze flicked to the swords and a look of loathing came over his face.

“Well?” Wulfgar said from the sidelines, his voice calm, but with an undertone of anticipation. “Aren’t you going to draw?”

“...No.”

Drizzt stared, confused, as Entreri reached down to his sword belt and unbuckled it, throwing it to the side. But when he took up a familiar, wide legged stance, his intentions were clear; he didn’t want to fight with his blades.

He wanted to fight with his body alone.

\---

The rules were set. 

They would fight to pin the other opponent; keeping the other man captive until the count of twenty was a victory. No biting, clawing, hair pulling, kicking or punching. Wulfgar was to be the referee; he was the most familiar with this form of fighting, and would likely be the best to pull the two apart if the fight became too serious. Catti-brie gathered up their weapons as well as their armor and clothing; she had insisted on fairness**, and so the two stood dressed in nothing but pants. Wulfgar kneeled on the sidelines. 

“Begin.” He intoned.

They slammed into each other; shoulders pressed into each other’s collarbones, arms wrapped around each other’s upper back, and legs splayed for support. Entreri shoved hard, trying to use his superior weight to throw Drizzt off balance, but he didn’t budge. He tried tracking to the right, so he could hopefully break his stance, but Drizzt moved seamlessly with him. He growled, and snapped his upper body suddenly to the right, hoping to flip him. He partially succeeded; mainly because he was a few pounds heavier than the slim elf, which gave him an advantage in this sport. 

However, Drizzt dragged him down with him, and they both slammed to the floor. They staggered partially upright, on their knees now, and Entreri rammed his head into Drizzt’s stomach, hoping to wind him, but he just slid to the side. The drow slipped an arm under his armpit, trapping his left arm, and with the other he wrapped it around his chest, partly trapping him. Entreri got his legs under him, and powered upright, hoping to flip him over his back. It was a mistake.

This time it was Drizzt that swung to the right, the muscles in his upper body writhing under the strain. Entreri was slammed onto his back and Drizzt immediately went to sprawl on top of him to pin him, but Entreri rolled away and onto his back, and Drizzt was only partially on top of him. He struggled to keep the assassin from rising; and knew this was going to be difficult. It was much harder to pin someone onto their stomach; too easy for them to get an arm or leg under them and throw the other person off. Drizzt scrabbled for purchase, trying to get on top of him or at least flip him over, before Entreri could escape.

Entreri jerked, feeling the man’s fingers poke uncomfortably into his side, and unsuccessfully tried to throw him off. His breath whooshed out of him as Drizzt finally scrambled on top of him, and slammed his upper body into his back, grinding the human’s chest into the dirt. Quickly, he hooked the back of his knee around Entreri’s lower left leg, and trapped it, preventing him from rising. Next, he wrapped his arms around the man’s chest, pinning his arms to his sides.

Entreri gasped, wriggling futilely. Wulfgar counted slowly, deliberately, as they both strained against the other.

\---

This was unimaginably uncomfortable.

Entreri knew he was trapped, but kept struggling for appearance. He was angry, but not as angry as he thought he might be. Already he was categorizing the experience, and was determined to be even better next time. His train of thought was interrupted when Drizzt shifted above him to get a better grip on the writhing assassin when Entreri noticed a...problem.

He was glad he was facing away from the rest of them, his cheek pressed against the dirt. He did not want them see the red flush into his face.

When-after what seemed like eons-Wulfgar counted to twenty; he immediately sprang up and went to his pile of clothing, hiding his half-hard erection. He’d had this problem before; though it happened rarely, and knew it would go away quickly as soon as the adrenalin that caused it left his system. And sure enough, by the time he’d replaced most of his gear it had faded.

“You fought well.”

The adrenalin spiked again and he grit his teeth in frustration. He turned to Drizzt, who was now standing next to him, and again he felt the rush of blood to lower parts of his anatomy. Thankfully it wasn’t as strong this time, and with the extra gear on it was hidden, but still; he didn’t want to linger.

“Thank you.” He muttered, and walked off.

Drizzt sighed mentally. Well, he may still be unfriendly, but this did go better than I’d hoped.

“Well done.” Jarlaxle chuckled, coming up next to him. “This was an excellent idea; and don’t worry about Entreri. He behaved in an exemplary manner for him; believe me, I’ve traveled with him long enough.”

Drizzt’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile; it was difficult to resist the mercenary’s charm. The flamboyant drow leaned his back against the hitching post, crossing his arms and simply watched the other drow put his gear back on.

“Those are marvelous blades.” He purred, looking at the fine make of them with an expert’s eye. “Where did you happen upon them?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I like stories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “-I am not left handed!”  
> ** Oh, admit it Catti-brie; you wanted to see two sweaty, scantily-clad men dukeing it out just as much as we did.


	3. Freud Sends You His Regards Entreri

Before he knew it, they were all inside at the bar; Catti-Brie ad Wulfgar chatting to each other over ice-cold mead at a table, while he and Jarlaxle sat at the bar. He told of the encounter with Icingdeath, and Jarlaxle listened eagerly. But eventually, when he had finished, he finally came to the subject he really wanted to discuss.

“How did you...know my father?”

Jarlaxle smiled; this was exactly what he’d been hoping he would ask. “I met him at Melee Magthere; I and your father both went for training.”

“He and I were total opposites. I was an overconfident little braggart; whereas he was cautious and calculating.” His eyes glazed over in memories. “Ahhhh...he and I used to get in and out of so much trouble...”

“ ‘Trouble’?” Drizzt b ed. “What kind of trouble?” 

“We were infamous.” He grinned. “We’d find ways to torment priestesses, sneak out of Melee Magthere, find a way of smuggling in contraband food; anything to break the rules without getting caught. We were an excellent team.”

Drizzt laughed. He knew how repressive the environment was as the training academy; some students spent their entire free time finding ways of bending the rules. He could see it; his father was a serious man, but nothing pleased him more than flaunting the rigid societal customs.

“And how did you become such a pair?”

“Accidentally.” He said. “Back then, I was an impetuous child that leaped before I looked. I’d smuggled in some pokeweed; but my supplier had set up a trap. I was running along the corridors trying to get away when I nearly ran over Zak. On a spur of the moment, I offered a share of it if he’d hide me. It was a silly plan; how would he know how to hide me? Besides, he was a stranger; a drow that could easily turn me over and reap the rewards.

Instead, he did as I asked. He led me through a devious maze of deserted corridors to a balcony that hadn’t seen anyone in years. We lost the guards; and as we smoked the pokeweed together he revealed his mutual hatred of our stiff society...as well as an impressive knowledge of deserted spots and hidden passageways.”

“So you befriended him to benefit from this knowledge.”

“It wasn’t easy, believe me.” He laughed. “Your father was as suspicious as they come.” 

“But you won him over.”

“Eventually. I was persistent as well as foolhardy.”

“And your partnership evolved from there.”

“And a wonderful partnership it was!” He crowed. “I was the ambition, the drive and the one that came up with the ideas; your father examined my plans to root out the faults, and found ways of getting them done. He was ploddingly cautious, I was full of bravado; combined we leveled each other out.”

“And I’m guessing that you had many adventures in your time at the university.” Drizzt said slowly.

“We did, in fact.” Jarlaxle smiled; but it faded at the tone in his voice. “You don’t believe me?”

Drizzt stared at him for a moment. 

“I’m not sure.” He began. “You speak so familiarly of him; and you can’t have ulterior motives for claiming to know him. All reasoning points to your friendship being possible...except one.”

“And that is...?”

“My father never mentioned you.”

Jarlaxle’s polite smile faded away completely. “Never?”

Drizzt continued on, despite a faint feeling of unease in his stomach. “No. He never described being a terror in the university; not once did he mention close friends of any kind. Including a bald, extravagant mercenary.”

“I wasn’t bald! Nor did I wear such clothes then as I do now; and I was also known to him by a different name.”

“Listen to yourself.” Drizzt shook his head. “You are making incredible feats of reasoning; these reasons sound like delusions-”

“THEY ARE NOT DELUSIONS!” 

The bar went still. Catti-Brie and Wulfgar instantly had their hands on their weapons and were ready to come to his aid, the poor barman was frozen in fear; and Drizzt himself was tensed, ready to protect himself from an attack.

He was also very, very surprised.

Jarlaxle was not a man to show real emotion. He laughed and joked and smiled; but never did he drop the cordial mask and show real feelings. But now the mask was nowhere to be seen; and emotions of anger, frustration and...hurt warred openly. His body was tensed, his fists clenched so tightly that the nails gouged into the skin.

Then just as quickly the emotions were reigned in and controlled; the stiff muscles forced to relax. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but neither was he openly hostile. He stared at Drizzt for a moment, eyes hard, before getting up.

“Let us talk another time.” He made a sweeping bow-a tense smile on his face-and straightened. “It was a trying afternoon; I believe we could all use a little time away from each other.”

And, without another word, he strode away.

\---

_That was a gross overstepping of your boundaries._

Jarlaxle kicked morosely at the pebbles strewn in front of him. He was back at the training grounds, leaning against the rough wood sides of the inn.

_And now I’ve ruined it._

Likely, he imagined, Drizzt thought he was a both a liar and a madman. His fond reminiscing sounded thin and foolish to him now; talking of golden times with a man long dead. Dead and buried.

But it still hurt.

It hurt that Zak apparently didn’t treasure those ‘golden times’ as much as he did. That he didn’t talk about them to his son. That he’d never mentioned his friend to Drizzt; the friend he’d once said was the only person who could make him laugh until his sides hurt. Or at all.

He knew that Zak had pushed him away, shed their friendship like a clinging skin; and that had hurt; hurt more than it should in a society that prized being bloodlessly emotionless. But, until now he didn’t know that Zak had gone to this extent in his campaign to cut him off. It was as if he was trying to...to...

_...To act as if he had never known me._

\---

Hours later, Entreri heard the drow come back into the room they shared and slip into bed beside him. He turned towards him.

“Did you find more information?” He murmured; assuming that was what he’d been doing out late.

He made a small, noncommittal noise. “No. I just went and got a few supplies. This town has relatively little in the way of an information network.”

He hummed and rolled back over. “Pity.”

“Yes.” He was silent for a long while. “...Goodnight, Entreri.”

He muttered something back, and was asleep instantly.

It was quite a while before Jarlaxle joined him.

\---

Entreri recognized this room. He knew it well.

It was round; the walls of rough board and the floor covered in a thinly padded mat. Various weapons and exercise equipment were clustered on the edges of it; it was well lit, well cared for. This was the private room he practiced in and honed himself. It was as familiar as his own weapons; a place he felt more at home then his own living area specially made for him in the pasha’s estate. It was a place he felt comfortable in.

Drizzt didn’t belong in it.

But he was there, all the same. And, for some reason, that didn’t bother him; that his training room no longer existed since Pasha Basadoni’s compound was closed to him. It didn’t bother him that Drizzt had never set foot anywhere near it. It was here in all its glory, and so was Drizzt in all of his glory; wearing only pants just like earlier today.

Entreri grinned. He was content, happy even. Here he was in his favorite place, complete with an enemy to spar with. What could be better than this?

The scene blurred, shifted. They were grappling; battling back and forth. Drizzt was so black in the light he was crepe-paper cutout with lavender eyes radiating ‘mist all that blackness; his smile a white gash in the shadowy face. His breath was hot as a furnace, crackling over Entreri’s sweat-slicked skin; white hair whirling around and whipping the assassin’s face with a thousand tiny stings. He was wrestling a spirit, an avatar of the meanings and idea’s he’d tacked onto the ranger.

...But he was slowly loosing.

He fought the inevitable, snarling like an animal, but he was still forced down. Drizzt-yet-not-Drizzt grabbed his forearms in one, iron-made fist. He twisted them behind his back and slammed him to the floor. Again he was pinned, in nearly the exact same position as earlier today; Drizzt looming over him like a predator over its kill. 

_That’s how it always ends. That’s how all these dreams end. With you always the winner and me the loser; and now you’ll vanish like a puff of smoke, like you were never there, leaving me screaming ‘I’m not finished!’ with all my questions and none of them answered._

Blood buzzed in his ears, and still Drizzt pressed him into the mats, like a slab of heavy, searing hot iron. The heat was in his groin too, and he growled in anger, in frustration, at everything in general. Drizzt lowered his head, his face less than an inch from his neck; nearly touching his exposed throat where he lay, one cheek pressed against the mat. His breath fanned out over the skin, white-hot and blistering.

He jerked and roared when the drow’s tongue ran up his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

“Entreri!”

He was in an unfamiliar room in a strange bed with an enemy lying next to him. _Where-is-Drizzt-where-is-he-where-is-he HE’S GONE AGAIN!_

“Entreri!” The voice huffed. “Entreri, stop thrashing before you roll off the bed.”

He wasn’t at his training room. Drizzt wasn’t here. He was in the inn, with Jarlaxle; on a mission and not fighting to the death with Drizzt-shaped apparitions. Or...having sexual encounters with them. Fighting...sex...the feelings were one and the same, the rush from both was identical. He shuddered. It was too hot in the tiny room, and his pants were far too tight.

Jarlaxle was giving him a concerned look.

“I’m...fine.” He croaked.

“Dreams?”

After a moment of deliberation, he nodded. He felt no reason to deny it; a dream was obviously the cause of him thrashing about like a landed fish in his sleep.

“About Drizzt?”

He gave the drow a suspicious look.

“You said his name in your sleep.” Jarlaxle shrugged. “Though in my experience you’ve never talked in your sleep before; what kind of dream prompted that?”

He paused again, considering. What would Jarlaxle’s reaction be to his dream? He had no idea. He still had difficulty with the realization that he was attracted to his own sex that he’d recently discovered-something Jarlaxle had no difficulty accommodating-but the drow had helped him deal with the crisis; helping his understand it and accept it. His expert advice, patience, and empathy in that situation had gained him respect and tentative trust from the assassin. And, coincidentally, his bed; although that was more the human’s idea than the drow’s. Perhaps he could help him now...even though it was going to feel uncomfortable as all hell.

“I was reliving yesterday’s sparring.” He said slowly. “With some...differences.”

\---

Jarlaxle stared mutely at him after the explanation. This was...unexpected. Apparently ‘sexual attraction’ had been added to the multitude of things that Entreri associated with the ranger. To Entreri, Drizzt was a symbol of a host of things. The ranger was his fear of ageing; while he would grow old and lose his edge, Drizzt would have many years left of youth to further perfect himself, leaving Entreri behind. And jealousy too; because he’d given up everything for discipline to become as skilled as he was, living a hollow life, but Drizzt was just as skilled-more skilled, in fact-but he still enjoyed a full existence. These were just a few that Jarlaxle could put a name to and identify.

There were so many issues between them and now...this.

Jarlaxle sighed. 

“Please listen to what I am saying.” He began cautiously. “You have been...obsessed with him in the past; and have only recently discovered your own sexuality. Perhaps...back then you were...attracted to him; subconsciously. Now that you are somewhat at ease with your sexual urges, maybe they are making themselves more known?”

His look was one of incredulity. “I wanted to kill him because I lusted after him? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Among other reasons.” He said quickly. “Truly, I believe I am a bit out of my depth here, however. I’m just trying to make the conclusions that seem the best.”

Entreri calmed a bit. “...This could be a fluke.”

“It could.” _Though I doubt it._

“I will...wait. For now.” He said slowly. “See if this is more than a one-time occurrence.”

\---

Still deep in thought that morning over the implications of what Entreri had told him, he forgot momentarily about his blunder yesterday. It wasn’t until Drizzt approached him, a serious look on his face that it came back. The memory was a mental slap in the face and he lurched to his feet, ready to make an excuse to dismiss himself, silently berating his actions. But before he could do that, the ranger spoke first.

“I wish to talk to you.” The tone was openly pleading; his eyes beseeching, arms up with the palms of his hands turned up in a subconscious gesture of begging. It was not what he’d expected; he had thought Drizzt would respond with accusatory tones and anger. Torn between his caution and curiosity, he paused, giving Drizzt a moment to speak.

“I am sorry.” Drizzt said, openly displaying another emotion; remorse. “I did not mean to ridicule your friendship with my father, to mock it so overtly that you snapped.”

This...was not expected. An apology? For _his_ behavior? It felt like a trick, a trap, an emotional pitfall waiting for him to stumble in and get snapped up. 

Then, he remembered that such an open display of emotions-if it was indeed meant to lure him in-was just as dangerous to the trapper as it was for the prey. Drizzt had been raised in drow society, in a noble house no less, so he knew the game. This was a tactic that was never used, because in a society where emotions were a severe handicap, it was blood in the water.

Logic said that the emotions displayed were...genuine.

A tentative feeling of needing to reach out started to creep in. He was still wary, but this little exchange had cracked open an intriguing door, one that he was cautiously willing to explore.

Drizzt could see the guarded acceptance of his statement in Jarlaxle’s demeanor; and dared to hope that he had succeeded in reaching the drow. He moved onto his next statement, nervous fluttering in his stomach.

“I believe that you did know my father.” Drizzt said. “You have convinced me.” 

He cocked his head. “How did I persuade you? My words had no effect.”

“No.” He smiled. “Your actions did.”

\---

At first, Jarlaxle had been wary, but eventually he just couldn’t keep away. On their way to Silverymoon, they became almost inseparable. The ranger and the mercenary were an odd pair, to be sure, but they got along surprisingly well. He eagerly accompanied the younger drow; information gathering, buying supplies, even the small chores that made up preparing a campsite.

Catti-Brie brie watched Drizzt and his shadow with a feeling of amusement. She could guess what was going on; but she decided to keep her thoughts to herself and just let it progress naturally. She felt that it wasn’t everyday that the mercenary was able to make a friend; an actual friend, not just a convenient alliance. And, from experience, she knew that Drizzt made a warm, caring, affectionate companion; once you got past his seemingly standoffish demeanor. It must be a new experience for someone that grew up in such a vicious, cruel place like Menzobarranzan. She was also glad that Drizzt had someone to talk to about drow issues; someone who could understand.

They quite a few common subjects they could talk about, like their ‘firsts’; i:e, their first experiences on the surface. First time they had seen the sun, first time they had tried surface food, first time encountering weather. Drizzt told of his unfortunate adventure with a skunk (‘if you see black and white stripes, never try making friends with it.’); Jarlaxle described eating goat curry (‘Entreri tricked me into eating it, and then laughed at my pain!’). Jarlaxle was almost saddened when they saw the walls of Silverymoon, their next stop.

He was, however, cheered up when he met the beautiful Alustriel.

“My lady.” He swept his hat off and bowed elaborately. “I am most pleased to be making your acquaintance.”

Outwardly, she only raised an eyebrow at the appearance of this... _interesting_ fellow, but inwardly she was thinking that Drizzt’s tales of the drow hadn’t just been able to quite fully describe him. She’d known about the outrageous clothing, but he looked like a barnyard rooster in that getup. And he’d been described as having the manor of a flamboyant noble; but she thought he behaved like the genteelist of dandies. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” And she meant it.

He bounded up to her, and she let him kiss her hand. 

“May I humbly request the permission to get to know you better, my lady?” He gave her his most charming smile. “If it pleases you.”

“You may.” He was playing The Game; the one of courtly romance, attempting to charm her. She could barely hold back her laughter at his audacity.

She sobered at the sight of the other, more unpleasant addition to the usual party. Entreri stood at the bottom of the steps, his dark and hostile stature seeming badly at odds with the light, airy nature of her throne room. She approached and he noticeably bristled, tensing defensively. Quickly, she touched the brooch at her throat and it told her that the man was not actively hostile; not towards her or anyone else in the party, nor did he seem to have any future plans of harming her or her friends.

She studied him for a moment, and then nodded. “All of you will be shown to your rooms. Later, after the noontide meal, I will show you what I have dug up about your situation.”

\---

They still had a few days to wait before they were to set out on their newest lead, so Jarlaxle managed to convince the drow to spar with Entreri again, and the assassin agreed. Drizzt was tentatively relived the assassin seemed to be less reluctant, past that stage of open resistance to the idea. Jarlaxle agreed to be the referee; as both Catti-Brie and Wulfgar were hunting down a few information leads; lending assistance in getting rid of gnolls in exchange. 

They were to spar in a room specially designed for this, with Alustriel watching over the proceedings. She sat relaxed in her chair, sitting alongside Jarlaxle. He leaned against the side of her high-backed chair, being his most charming. Alustriel was most amused, returning his advances with her own, playing ‘the game’ as it was. Right now, however, even Jarlaxle couldn’t distract her. She was leaning forward with anticipation; looking forward to the battle between the two.

Entreri, on the other hand, was not so eager. He was...apprehensive. He was caught in a difficult position; fighting with his fists, or with swords. With fists, it was likely to lead to a lot more close, bodily contact than he wanted. Of course, that would be the best way to...test whether or not he was attracted to the drow, but he would be damned before he accidently tipped him off to his interest. Like, say, an embarrassing reaction like what had happened when he last wrestled the ranger.

With swords...there was a _deeper_ sort of nervousness; it was on the subconscious level, hard to define. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that made him so reluctant to face Drizzt with a sword in his hand; the unease just sat heavily in his stomach. He kept thinking of the last time that he’d faced him; the blood splattered on the floor, the corpse lying on the ground. He been crushed by disappointment then; disappointment that he’d lost control so badly that it made him into this desperate man who would rather die than admit defeat.

But...he needed to get over this apprehension. It would be a test; a test of character. A test to see if he would regress when faced with this. He clenched his jaw and moved forward, drawing his sword and dagger.

\---

When their swords first clashed, the shock had run all the way up his arm.

And now, a half-hour later, it still tingled and felt slightly numb. But the sensation didn’t register to his conscience brain; his mind catalogued it and dismissed it. He was far, far more interested in the battled that had unfolded in front of him.

When he had fought Drizzt before, his mind had been fogged over with a red mist; a purpose of deadly intent driven by rage. But now, for the first time, he felt as if he was seeing the ranger clearly. Without that relentless purpose, he could actually just...appreciate this; could truly see him for the admirable warrior he was. 

He was a formidable weapon, a deadly force. He was flowing seamlessly from one attack to the other, no movement unnecessary, no energy wasted. In movement, Drizzt was a sight to see; impressive and inspiring. Entreri could see he was more at home with blades in his hands than he was at any other time...like him. 

He didn’t realize he was grinning.

Jarlaxle was leaned forward tensely. Entreri was acting...strange. The look on his face was unfamiliar; he was smiling almost madly, his face almost split in half by the wide grin. His eyes were wide, whites showing, and his body language plainly spoke of a jittering excitement. The mercenary was worried immensely; his companion’s behavior was disturbing in its unfamiliarity. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Be calm.” Alustriel said gently. “I don’t believe your friend is about to try to kill or otherwise harm Drizzt.”

He gave her a curious look. “What, then, do you make of...his behavior?”

She smiled at him. “I do believe that we are witnessing him...playing.”

 _Play?_ Jarlaxle was doubtful; he didn’t think Entreri knew how to ‘play’. He had never witnessed the man be at all interested in anything resembling something so...normal; whether it be a diverting game of cards or more sadistic entertainment. As far as he knew, the man wasn’t capable of that basic, instinctual behavior; or would permit himself to indulge in it even if was.

Despite his doubts, however, Alustriel was right; although what Entreri was feeling was only vaguely like the excitement that most men normally felt. It was like a jittery nervousness; but yet he was completely focused. He felt electrified, more alive, than he had in a long, long time in his hollow life. 

\---

Drizzt, too, was feeling much the same; he was surprised that he was enjoying this as much as he was. This was even more of a challenge than he had ever gotten from any of his practice sparring sessions with his friends. Entreri matched him perfectly; was a perfect complement. And now, Drizzt was...enthused, pleased even, with the change he could see in the other man. This was becoming much like the sparring sessions he had with Catti-Brie, invigorating and challenging; not the duel to the death as he had feared. He smiled back, his grin just as wide, and then, on an impulse, decided _to play with him._

Entreri jumped in surprise as the blade slapped against his thigh, then stared as the drow circled to the left. His attitude had changed markedly; he was grinning just as madly as he, and there was an excited spring to his pace. 

Entreri straightened. He couldn’t quite name what had just changed, but he was sure that now the ranger was in the same mood as he was; his body language spoke of a new eagerness. His caution ebbed away, and instead he waded in. They still exchanged blows but the air of the exchanges were light, intended not to hurt or beat; nor to even prove each other’s skills. There was no point to the sparring now; this was just for fun.

Somehow, someway, he managed to wrest one of Drizzt’s scimitars out of his grasp, but the drow only laughed. Grinning, he dropped the other one and put up his fists, making a ‘come hither’ motion with one. Entreri snorted, and sheathed his weapons, then suddenly flung himself at the ranger. With his concerns about bodily contact forgotten in the excitement, he felt only exhilaration about grappling with his rival. 

They grasped each other’s shoulders, vying against each other with strength. Remembering the earlier session, Entreri immediately began using his slight weight advantage against the slimmer drow. He wrenched to the side, grinning at his success at breaking Drizzt’s stance. While he was unsteady, the assassin lashed out with his feet-after all, this wrestling session didn’t have to follow the same rules as the last-and knocked the drow’s right leg wide, further weakening his stance. 

All it took was a considerable shove, and Drizzt was knocked to his knees before him. Another push, and the next thing the drow knew he was flat on his back, the breath crushed out of him as the assassin practically sat on his chest; effectively pinning him. Entreri grabbed his wrists, and pinned his arms down as well. Drizzt thrashed only for a moment before giving up; it was hopeless anyway; Entreri grinning at him mockingly.

“You are a _cheat_.” He gasped out.

“You’re a sore loser.” He smiled viciously. “Do you concede; or will I have to convince you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you win. Now if you are quite finished with being amused with me...”

Entreri stood languidly, and moved off to the side, finally allowing him to stand.

\---

She watched them with a faint air of amusement; before now, both of them had been tense, wary of each other. Now, it seemed as if they had crossed an invisible boundary. They were companionably walking, side-by-side, as if there had been a temporary cease-fire and both sides decided to resume normal hostilities later after they were done having an engaging chat about techniques and the advantages of a scimitar or a dagger.

_Men._

From race to race, it seemed that males of all kinds had the most remarkable quality of bonding through trying to kill each other. From simple rough-and-tumble play as children, to nearly beating each other’s faces in as adults, it seemed the best friends formed their relationships through physical fights. And while Drizzt and Entreri had been mortal enemies, it seemed just one fight-a fight for fun, for pleasure, for the simple caveman joy of fighting-had gone an extraordinary length toward making them more than wary allies. 

She was also amused at Jarlaxle’s reaction; she had to subtly body-block him from running after the two. He was distressed, not altogether sure that this new, unfamiliar behavior was safe. He was, as she had guessed, a bit of a mother hen; very protective of the things and people he considered ‘his’. 

“That was a most interesting fight, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, indeed it was. Now, if you would excuse me-” He skirted around her, but stopped when she laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

“They’re not going to kill each other.” She smiled at him. 

“Not yet.” He muttered.

“Please,” She restrained a laugh. “Do quit you’re doom-and gloom predictions. Pessimism doesn’t suit you.”

He sighed. “Very well. I’ll wait here; for the time being.”

“Good.” She smiled at him, trying not to laugh.

\---

Entreri grimaced, and then finally was able to remove his light, leather chest plate. Unlike Drizzt, he preferred to wear less armor; as his main occupation-before being dragged around the country to fight monsters, that is-as an assassin and thief didn’t require wearing actual protection. Careers in that field capitalized on stealth and killing your opponent before he could strike; not full-blown confrontations. Recently, however, he was considering getting better equipment; he could plan out an assassination, and never once actually need to defend himself. However, out in the open you couldn’t predict when a group of orks were going to pop up.

He frowned at the piece of cured leather; the strap on the side that kept it in place around his ribs had snapped. He grimaced; realizing he would have to replace it sooner than he wanted too.

Drizzt came up next to him. “Pity. At least it’s an easy repair.”

Entreri shook his head. “No. I need to replace it with something better.”

“What do you have in mind?” Drizzt looked over the piece; he couldn’t see anything wrong with it. It was good quality; tailored to fit him perfectly.

“Need something heavier. More protective.”

Drizzt nodded, understanding. “Monstrous creatures are quite different from the prey your used to. Chainmail is quite excellent; I myself prefer it.”

“Effective against slashing attacks, but not against blunt force trauma.”

Drizzt shrugged off his chainmail shirt; revealing another, almost translucent covering underneath. “Spider-silk; it absorbs most of the shock of a powerful blow.”

Entreri considered it. Likely, padded leather with small, imbedded metal plates would suffice; though not as an efficient combination as Drizzt’s armor, it would be serviceable enough. He may lose some mobility, however, and that concerned him; his style featured heavily on fluid movement and this new armor would likely impair that.

With a slow realization, he remembered he was still staring at the drow’s chest. He could see the black skin, just barely, though the thin silk. Feeling a flash of irritation he snapped his eyes away.

 _Apparently, it wasn’t a fluke._ He thought wryly. 

He turned to look at the chest plate. “Padded leather with metal inserts will do; for now. Until I find something comparable.” 

Drizzt nodded, and looked curiously at the man. He was surprised to find that he didn’t wear a shirt of some sort under the armor; to keep the leather from chafing. Then again, if the armor was tailored well enough and lined with padding, perhaps he didn’t need it. Automatically, he noticed a few differences that made him stand out from the men he was used to seeing at his northern home. 

For one, he wasn’t as hairy; most of his skin was smooth, except for peppering on hair on his chest like all male humans had. He supposed it was because he came from a warmer clime; no need for extra hair in a habit that was typically in the hundreds or above. It was also a natural olive tone, not just a deep tan; unlike Wulfgar and Catti-Brie. Catti-Brie, especially, was quite a contrast to him; the poor woman never tanned, she only burned. He smiled absentmindedly, eyes roving slowly over him, examining and contrasting the unfamiliar with the familiar.

Entreri looked up from inspecting the armor, to see that Drizzt was still staring at him. The smile faded away, and he blinked, snapped out of his thoughts.

“Do you...need something?” Entreri said in a flat, wary tone.

“I apologize; I was curious.” He backed away, his face contrite.

“...Curious.”

“You are different from most humans that I’ve had close contact with.” He gestured at Entreri. “Northern people are generally all very pale with blond hair; like Wulfgar with his barbarian stock. Or they are like Catti-Brie, rosy-skinned and hair lending towards a red, or auburn.”

“Fascinating.” He said slowly, sideling further away, readjusting the armor under the pretense of inspecting it for any other flaws. “Perhaps you should befriend a Calishite and continue your examination on him.”

Drizzt realized the not-so-subtle hint and moved off, feeling a sense of discomfort.


	5. Chapter 5

Entreri was quiet next to him as he lay in bed.

That, in and of itself was not unusual; but Jarlaxle had hoped he would be more talkative about the sparring bout earlier today. He was on fire with curiosity; his inquisitive nature begging to know more about the strange mood that had come over the assassin during the fight. 

He cleared his throat anxiously, in a not-so-subtle-hint.

Entreri ignored him.

He hummed loudly to himself.

The assassin shifted in annoyance.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

 _“Well?”_ Jarlaxle snapped, making him jerk in surprise.

“Well _what_?” he snapped back.

“What in the seven hells came over you today?” Jarlaxle stammered out, the words nearly tripping over themselves in their eagerness to get out. “That wasn’t a fight, it was...I don’t even know what it was! You weren’t even trying to win; you were _smiling_!”

Entreri glared at him in annoyance. Then, unexpectedly, it softened. Jarlaxle watched in puzzlement as his gaze shifted to stare absently mindedly at the wall; forcing the drow to wait patiently as he tried to form and answer. He started slowly.

“I had never engaged in a fight where the tone of the battle was not deadly serious.” He said, trying to explain. “They served only one purpose and could only have one outcome.”

Jarlaxle watched in fascination as his gaze slowly returned to the drow’s face. “Today was first time I fought just to fight. Not to win, not to prove anything, not to further my or anyone’s ambitions. It was just for...fun.”

_“Fun?”_

He shrugged. “I suppose it could be called that. I have no better word for it.”

Jarlaxle stared blankly at him for a while, then slowly smiled. “I’m glad.”

Entreri looked slightly puzzled. 

“I am glad that you are finally learning to relax and enjoy yourself, my friend.” He explained. “It gladdens me to learn that you are doing so.”

The assassin shrugged, and rolled over to lie on his stomach. Clearly he was ready to be done with the conversation and go to sleep. He was not really interested in introspection.  
Jarlaxle, however, was not finished. This time, however, he wanted another question answered. Grinning at his bedmate, he asked:

“Was it a fluke?” He joked.

Entreri tensed. Finally, in a perfectly serious tone, he muttered an answer. “..No”

Jarlaxle started. While he had been pretty sure of the answer, he hadn’t expected him to actually reply.

“You...oh.” He grimaced at his stammering. “What do you expect to do with this...attraction?

Entreri remained silent, an indication that he didn’t know.

“Have you thought of...bedding him?”

Entreri lifted his head from the pillow to shoot him an incredulous look. _Bed him?_ Where they talking of the same drow; the same one that he had obsessively harassed, threatened  
his friends, had nearly killed...and Jarlaxle was blatantly suggesting that he walk up to him and ask for a quick fuck?

“And _how_ do you suppose I would go about that?”

He attempted to give a reply, but upon picturing Drizzt’s reaction to such advances from the human he gave up with a hearty laugh. He couldn’t help but laugh, the image was too ridiculous.  
Entreri snorted. “It seems you are at as much of a loss as I about this. You can’t even come up with one of your harebrained schemes.”

Jarlaxle giggled. “I admit, I cannot. I can’t help but laugh about the look on his face at such a proposition however. He wouldn’t even reply I imagine. He’d simply punch you.”  
The corner of Entreri’s lip lifted slightly; then Jarlaxle waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I can’t help but envision...other reactions however.”

He rolled his eyes; Jarlaxle _would_ think that. He tried to ignore the drow by turning away from him, feigning sleep.

Jarlaxle was not easily deterred, however. He kept smiling, continuing the interesting tangent. What if the young ranger did agree to such a proposal? Granted, that would be rather difficult; it would probably require a lot of gentle coaxing, but then?

He tried to envision the two; but found it a little difficult. He knew little about him; other than his fighting style and the fact that he was Zaknafien’s son.

_Zak._

Jarlaxle shivered. If he was anything like his father, Entreri was in for best lay of his life. Sometimes he _still_ had wet dreams about his late friend and lover. He’d been the only lover he’d encountered that made his legs feel like they were made of water, and to completely overwhelm him with pleasure and unrecognizable emotion. He gazed at the back of his current lover; which was rough and flecked with scars, much like Zak’s had been. He realized he was faintly aroused, and snorted. It was ridiculous, really, how much a man that had been dead for so long-and his ex lover for even longer-could affect him still. He focused again on Entreri, this time more clearly envisioning the hypothesized encounter.

Would their lovemaking be cautious? Wary? Full of false starts and hesitation? That would be his first guess. His second was that Entreri would practically attack the poor drow; in his opinion, the assassin had a lot of repressed sexual tension with the younger drow. The ranger would more than likely shove him away and never approach him again if that happened. Then another scenario occurred to him; one that startled him. Entreri’s dream about the drow had been...interesting. There were themes of being trapped and pinned by the drow. He’d been...dominated sexually by Drizzt.

His eyes glazed slightly. Drizzt was wonderfully capable of pinning Entreri, he’d proven it in the wrestling match. And he _knew_ that Entreri liked being on bottom; it had taken him forever to convince him to try it, but he’d enjoyed it so much...

\---

Entreri grimaced in annoyance as he felt a hand brush his back. All he wanted to do was sleep, couldn’t the drow wait until morning to continue their conversation?

“I wonder...” 

The drow’s voice was unusually hoarse. He looked at him to see the mercenary’s face was slack, the eyes glazed.

“I wonder...how would he be?”

Entreri rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in speculation.

“Would he be gentle?”

Entreri sneered. “I’m not some delicate maiden.” He turned away again; Jarlaxle could entertain his ridiculous notions by himself; he was going to sleep.

“No, I supposed not.” He mused softly. “You are...rather durable.”

He ignored him; then frowned in confusion as the tone of Jarlaxle’s voice changed to a horse, excited jitter.

“You would be able to handle him being rough.” He felt Jarlaxle straddle him, and he remained still, wondering what the point of this one-sided conversation was.  
“...and dominating.”

 _That_ got his attention. He looked up at Jarlaxle, who was looking down at his with a far away look. He had a notable bulge in his pants. He waited for the next statement.

“You once dreamed about him...”

“...I did.” He started as Jarlaxle slid a hand along his back.

“Did you like it?” He licked his lips. “Being...held down?”

He started to breath shallowly. This was different from Jarlaxle’s usual seductions; he wasn’t sure how to react, what to say. Apparently, a reply wasn’t required; Jarlaxle carried the conversation by himself.

“I know you do like being taken.” He husked. “Would you like to be taken by him? To have him on top of you?”

Entreri lay still as the mercenary slid down to cover him completely. He felt the heat of the drow’s groin as he ground his erection against his ass. He realized that he had an answering arousal and another, unusual reaction: he felt...jittery, almost nervous. This was not the usual charming seduction he expected from Jarlaxle; it was more...direct, almost forceful. Then he was murmuring into his ear, hot breath caressing the side of his face.

“I would like to see-” He breathed. “-him press you into the mattress.”

He licked the rim of his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “Where’s the oil?”

\---

He reached for it, and as he did he felt Jarlaxle slide the loose pants that he slept in off; and heard the rustle of the drow’s pants falling to the floor. Ordinarily he would have been annoyed; he was obsessively neat and hated that Jarlaxle left his clothes everywhere, but this time the thought never occurred. He simply reached back and pressed the small vial into the mercenaries’ hand. The drow was quiet; he talked so damn much that Entreri found this quiet almost unsettling, but he immediately felt a slender hand slide under him to rub and stroke his cock and he quickly ignored his unease. He felt the other hand stroke over his thigh, and he willingly spread his legs. It didn’t occur to him to object; or try to force the drow to be the one on the bottom. He rarely let Jarlaxle do this; despite liking it he still felt...uncomfortable sometimes at letting him be on top.

The preparation was brief; Jarlaxle sometimes took nearly a half hour or longer, driving him crazy until he yelled at him to get on with it, but not tonight. Soon the drow was again lying on him, naked erection sliding between his legs as he teasingly thrust. He shivered as he felt the blunt head rub against the perineum and brush against the back of his balls. Then, with practically no foreplay at all Entreri felt his cock pressing in, and he was hardly given any time to adjust, to feel to _think_ before he slowly started to thrust.  
It wasn’t long before he started up again with the talking; and while he thought that might be reassuring-something normal out of the man at last-what his was saying was not the usual conversation at all.

“Do you want him to fuck you?” He hissed; Entreri sucked in a breath.

“I know you do” He started to speed up; his voice becoming hoarser. “He had you pinned down in your dreams.”

“You want him to press you down.” He gasped. “You want it rough; you want him to fuck you hard enough that you’ll feel it tomorrow.”

Entreri started to moan very quietly; he didn’t make noise usually, but the words, the burn of Jarlaxle’s voice in ears was starting to touch some part of his mind that he hadn’t experienced before. He _was_ imagining the scene that Jarlaxle was painting for him; could feel the same burning, dark emotion he’d felt in his dream.

“...Harder.” He growled.

Jarlaxle shivered. “...What did you say?”

 _“Harder.”_ And then he turned his head; Jarlaxle could see brutal passion in his eyes. His breath hissed between his teeth, and he immediately complied. Entreri’s quiet moans turned into raw cries as he thrust harder and faster than he ever had-or dared-into the delicious heat. There was no thought now, just pure feeling. It was rough, harsh, _pure_ animalistic sex with Jarlaxle digging his teeth into tan skin, leaving dark bruises. It wasn’t long before the mercenary felt the tension coil in belly; before he felt it spiral out in hard shudders that shook his whole body.

He hovered over the assassin’s prone form, realization coming back to him. He drew away a little; feeling slightly apprehensive suddenly. Entreri was still unused to being on the receiving end; and he’d been uncharacteristically rough. He watched apprehensively as the human drew himself up on his elbows, and tried to read his expression when he looked back at the drow.

“I..did not mean to be so...rough, I-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Entreri grabbed him roughly and rolled on top of him; half-expecting an attack in retaliation he stiffened and tried to use his knee to push him away. Instead his breath whooshed out of him in surprise when the assassin closed his thighs around his leg and started to thrust. His eyes widened as he felt the thick, engorged cock rub against him, slicking his skin with pre-cum. He lay, stiff and still, almost in shock, as the human made desperate-sounding moans and cries until he screamed, face buried against the drow’s neck, as he came.

\---

Drizzt was starting to wonder about the assassin. He kept...staring at him.

He sighed and shook his head. If he tried to devote time to every one of the man’s idiosyncrasies he wouldn’t have a moment to breathe. He refocused on the conversation at hand; which was being dominated, as per usual, by Jarlaxle.

“Ilenezhara is a lady of the finest degree-”

Drizzt turned around at a snort; looking quizzically at Entreri. He only plastered an ‘innocent’ look on his face and waved a hand listlessly at him. He gave him a suspicious look before turning back to the conversation.

“-And she is quite knowledgeable about these cave systems; she may even have maps in her vast collection. She is most pleased about getting to see all of us-”

“Specifically _you_ -” Muttered Entreri, under his breath. Drizzt was the only one that heard him, making the drow glance at him again. The corners of the assassin’s lips twitched; and Drizzt could have sworn he was restraining a smile.

He was _really_ starting to wonder about the assassin.

“And look! She has even rolled out the greeting for us!”

It was true. The lavish mansion was lit up with welcoming light, even at this late hour, and servants stood outside of the door, waiting to take their cloaks. It was rather bizarre for most of them to be welcomed with such pomp; Catti-Brie Brie and Wulfgar certainly weren’t used to it. Drizzt had been born a noble, however, and Jarlaxle took it in stride, completely happy with giving up his colorful-but dusty-traveling cloak. Entreri was unfazed; and the servants gave him a wide berth. They had learned to leave the man to himself. Drizzt was suddenly taken by the arm, and gave Jarlaxle a quizzical, amused look as he was led, like some lady of the court by a noble, down the gaudily decorated hall.

“My good Drizzt.” He grinned. “Let me welcome you to our gracious host.”

He gestured majestically to a lady-who seemed just as amused as Drizzt by this-who was quite as impressive as Alustriel; though more opulent by far. He felt a little ridiculous, but inclined his head respectfully to her all the same. Jarlaxle released him, and she approached him.

“So,” She purred, “This is the drow you spoke so highly of.”

She leaned closer, and Drizzt saw a sparkle in her eye that unnerved him. It was almost predatory; and set him on edge.

“I can see why.” She chuckled, and a slender finger reached up to stroke a cheekbone. 

His stomach clenched as he was reminded of the drow women in his dark former homeland. This wasn’t _really_ like that, he had no reason to feel that way; she wasn’t being near as overt and demanding and was likely only teasing...but still, he recoiled from her touch, earning him a puzzled look. 

“Just because Jarlaxle likes it does not mean every drow that walks into your presence is there to be fondled.” A voice snarled from behind him. Drizzt looked back, and to his shock it was Entreri suddenly standing closer to him, glowering at her.

She blinked rapidly, and stepped away, giving him a rather...peeved look, if such an expression could be said of being on a ladies’ face. But it vanished when she looked back at Drizzt, a sincerely contrite look on her face.

“My apologies.” She cooed. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Come,” She continued. “Let me have the servants show you to your quarters.”

Catti-Brie Brie tried to object, saying that they didn’t want to impose and really, they were perfectly fine with just staying at an _inn_ but was overruled by their host, who already had everything prepared. Drizzt, instead of really paying attention, only glanced over at the assassin next to him; who was giving him an inquiring look.

“Ah, thank you.” He said, trying to be polite. “For interfering on my behalf.”

He made a noncommittal noise and rolled his shoulders. “She is far too familiar with everyone; but she really meant no harm.”

Entreri cocked his head curiously again.

“...I’ll speak to you later.” Drizzt acquiesced. He could humor the man; since he had done a favor for him.

\---

Much, much later, as it turned out. Their host just couldn’t resist plying them with cakes and wine and music, so by the time it was done he was feeling tired and had a very faint headache from the alcohol. It was one of the reasons he never drank; he would start to get a hangover before he was even _drunk_ and that just took all of the fun out of it. He rested his elbows on the rail of the balcony, taking in the magnificent view of her gardens. Though tame, and therefore not very like the woods and mountains he liked, he could admire the sculpted beds of flowers. He turned at the whisper of steps behind him. Anyone less trained than he would not have heard them; despite the generously muscled frame and plentiful gear, Entreri could move quite silently, even when he wasn’t making an effort to stalk. He paused, and Drizzt felt rather strange at the...pleased expression just barely there on the assassin’s face. He seemed happy that Drizzt had heard him; instead of annoyed at being noticed.

“Even worn out from forced pleasantries you are still perfectly aware of every detail, aren’t you?” He sidled up next to him with a rather large amount of ease for a man who was supposed to be an enemy.

“And that...pleases you?”

“Of course it does. I would be disappointed in you if you were less attentive.”

He leaned against the railing, surprisingly nonchalant. For a few days now Entreri had been strangely at ease around him; like they were just casual associates, not deadly rivals. Also, the closeness: it was like the exact inverse of the first few days they had started working on the same side. Instead of running from him, it was now like he had his own personal satellite. And what was more unnerving was that when Entreri was more or less alone around him the usual dour, hostile presence was toned down. Or, when completely alone with him-like now-relaxed and rather casual.

Drizzt _really_ wondered about him.

“So.” He leveled a meaningful look at the drow.

“...Ah.” He dismissed his earlier thoughts. “The lady is...rather friendly, isn’t she.”

Entreri’s eyes bored into him. “Too friendly.”

“Particularly with Jarlaxle.” He skittered around the subject.

“Considering he sleeping with her, I’d say it’s not unwarranted.” He said bluntly.

“I should have seen that coming.” He muttered.

Entreri’s lips twitched, amused. “Yes. You should have.”

The amusement quickly went away, and back came the sensation of eyes boring into him.

Finally, Drizzt spoke. “You...have been to Menzobarranzan.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You do remember how the females there...treat the males.”

“I do remember them kicking men aside like stray dogs, yes.”

“No, I mean how they...look at you. Size you up.” He paused. “Like a prize animal or...a side of beef.”

Entreri blinked; then a sudden understanding flickered in his eyes.

“I know that was not how she was treating me, but it was similar enough to...trigger those memories.” He said, his voice dipping without him consciously realizing it. He broke eye contact to stare out, once again at the peaceful gardens. He could use some soothing now.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the uplifted hand, and before he could control it he grimaced and drew back, his skin breaking out in goosebumps and feeling like it was going to crawl off his bones.

“...Not just females.” Entreri lowered his outstretched arm. “You are...afraid. Of touch.”

The assassin’s expression was unreadable.

“Is it not reasonable to be reluctant to being touched by an assassin?” Drizzt attempted to reason. To back away. He really, really did not want to be having such a personal conversation with someone that he only knew through attempts on his life.

“Is that really the issue here?” He challenged.

“I’m comfortable around my friends-”

“Because theirs is a platonic embrace.” He countered. 

“And what is yours then?” He snapped. “The embrace of a friend or the embrace of a enemy?”

“...Neither.”

Drizzt gave him a puzzled look. Entreri’s look was still unreadable, but the eyes were staring at him so intensely like he was trying to will the drow into understanding.

“Then what?”

“The...third. The other.” He paused. “...Option.” 

Drizzt couldn’t believe this; the man was...well, he couldn’t say _stumbling_ over words, Entreri didn’t _stumble_ -

He tried again. “The third type of embrace.”

Drizzt gave him a confused look.

“Platonic. Antagonistic.” He said slowly. “What’s the third?”

“...Romantic?” Drizzt guessed finally. “The...opposite of both of them I sup-”

He almost bit off the end of that sentence as his mind tracked back along the line of their conversation to its logical conclusion.

Or, rather, tried. He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish it.

“...I should be going.” He said, without a trace of subtlety. He straightened, and immediately turned to-as gracefully and nobly as he could-bolt like a startled deer for the door. His sleeve was caught, and he froze, only his head turning, slowly, to look down at Entreri.

“Touch.” He swallowed. “Is not...unpleasant. From the right person.”

“I’m not quite sure you are the right person.” He said, carefully even.

His breath hissed between his teeth, frustration clearly evident. “I don’t mean me; anyone. You don’t need to be-”

“Let go of my sleeve.” He started to draw away. “I no longer wish to have this conversation-”

“Dammnit, ignore your squeamishness about me and listen.” He snapped, grabbing a hold of Drizzt’s upper arm. “This is important.”

Drizzt stared at him, confused; though he did stop to listen at last.

“I realize you may be...reluctant to experience anything more than the platonic...contact. I was also...at one time-” He bit off that thread, and started on a different track. “I have been to your city. I have seen the abuse; the callousness. It’s understandable to not want to be intimate after being used like that-”

“I...was not-I have never actually...been. With, ah, anyone.” He could feel his face heat; though thankfully his dark skin hid it. “I was lucky that I was never truly forced against my will; though once for my initiation ceremony we were all placed in a chamber perfumed with drugged smoke with...naked priestesses. You can guess what they expected me to do.”

Entreri was about to speak, but he waved him to silence. He wanted him to understand the true reason why he was reluctant to engage in sex.

“The smoke dulled my senses; and the women were...tempting. I was tempted. But I couldn’t help but feel...trapped.” He sucked in a shuddery breath. “And that’s what it was.”

His gaze went through Entreri; once again looking at the past. “One time, my brother had said that the only thing that separated us was control. The beatings, the physical labor; that hadn’t succeeded in breaking my spirit, hadn’t made me lose my control over the darker parts of me. This...was designed to make me give in to base lust; to make me lose control.”

“I couldn’t give in. If I did, I was lost. I would be like them; selling not just my body, but my soul.”

Entreri hadn’t let go of his arm; but the grip had loosened. His expression was blank, and it was difficult to gauge what he was thinking about the tale. Drizzt hoped he understood; even if he couldn’t see if he did or not.

“...Your reluctance is not borne out of remembered pain, but out of your resistance to losing control; and being just like your kin?” He said, flatly.

“Yes.” He nodded. 

Entreri suddenly let him go, with the strangest look of...oh. Oh no.

“Entreri.” He started, a feeling of dread and trepidation squirming in his stomach. “You said that you were also once...reluc-”

“Didn’t you say you had to be leaving?” He said, gruffly. He was straightening his sleeves, not meeting his eyes.

Drizzt paused; then slowly, like he was trying not to startle a wild animal- _and that was what the assassin was, really, something that could whirl and bite him_ -and wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist. He did not display pity; Entreri was the type of man to prefer hate to pity. So he settled for a mild, gentle expression; nothing overt enough to drive him off.

“I...thank you.” He said. “For reaching out to me; even if it not for the reasons you thought, I am still grateful. And humbled, that you would...expose yourself, for my sake.”

Now the grey eyes met his evenly; scanning them.

“I...do not want the type of relationships that my kin indulge in; abusive ones where there is always a take and never a give. A relationship where there is always inequality; the dominate, the strong, taking what they will from those that have no choice to give it.” He continued. “If I will be with another; I want it to be with someone who will give; not just take, who is interested in me for more than just physical lust.” 

He held his gaze steadily. “And I want it to be with an equal.”

“Equal?” Entreri’s brow furrowed in confusion at that last line.

“You are my equal.” Drizzt said. “In both body and mind.”

He hesitated; and then his lip curled. “You defeated me last time. Left me wallowing while you stood nobly on your pedestal of morals.”

“Last time you were a desperate man that would rather die than realize that life could have meaning besides being the best at swordplay.” He said evenly. “I doubt that man would have reached out in common pain to help another being.”

Entreri had nothing to say to that, and Drizzt could see that his words were having the intended effect; he had said them to make it clear that he thought Entreri was his equal. He had also had difficulty trying to have a relationship with another being because he had never found someone who was both intellectually and physically equal to him; and while Entreri was indeed in body as fierce a swordsman as him-

(yes, he had defeated the human back there, but really, he had been professionally trained and spent quite a bit longer fighting than the short-lived human; while Entreri was not only technically younger than him but _self-taught_ ) 

-but he had always bemoaned how brutally machine-like the man was. Regis had once said that he was rumored to be some well-built golem, not a person. 

And now, it appeared, the swordsman had a depth, personality, _soul_. 

He leaned forward.


	6. Chapter 6

_...Well._

_He did admit he was a virgin._

Entreri paused; waiting for the drow to...move. To...good lord, try to use his tongue or something. 

_When he said that he had never been with anyone; I didn’t imagine that he had never even **kissed** someone._

The kiss was chaste and shy, and clearly the ranger had no idea where to put his hands; the one that wasn’t on his wrist was clenched at his side, reflecting the rigid tenseness in the ranger’s whole frame. He was leaning forward too much, their noses where bent uncomfortably, and his lips barely moved against his.

He puckered too much.

Finally Entreri broke away; and Drizzt gave him a panged, anxious expression.

“I...don’t have much skill,” _No skill_ , Entreri thought ruefully “But I...am willing to learn...”

Entreri gentled his expression, or as much as a man like him could; and cupped his cheek, silencing the ranger.

“You need to relax.” He said. “I’m not going to mock you.”

He saw the shoulders slump a little, but he was still tense. Entreri sighed.

“Come here.” He motioned him closer; and while he did step a little nearer he still kept too much distance between them. Over his grunt of protest he wrapped his arms around the small of his back and pressed them together; chest to chest, and he took the opportunity to finally get to touch the drow outside of combat.

He pressed his cheek to the ranger’s, feeling the smoothness. That, of course, was expected; Jarlaxle and Drizzt were both drow after all. However, Jarlaxle didn’t have hair, and he was dying to feel his.

It was smooth, as he had guessed; but it was _thick_. More like a horse’s thick mane than the perfectly managed locks of most drow nobles. He tangled his fingers in it, wrapping the strands around his fingers. Jarlaxle had once accused him of ‘tactile obsession’- _though had never complained of it, not when he was lying on the bed fondled and petted into a boneless heap_ -and he supposed it referred to his love of texture and the _feel_ of things. And he didn’t complain when Jarlaxle had given him the hat; simply because he noticed Entreri liked the feel of the felt under his fingers.

“I...I’m not sure what I’m supposed-”

“Stop.” He murmured. “ _Thinking._ ”

He swallowed, and finally relaxed. Entreri wasn’t sure what had caused him to calm, but he suspected stroking his hair. He kept doing it, and Drizzt leaned forward to rest his chin on his shoulder.

“...Nice.” He breathed. “That’s...nice.”

He slid his fingers up to stoke along the scalp.

“My sister...” He said quietly, “Used to manage my hair. She wouldn’t pull or cut me...it’s one of the few positive memories I have with touch as a child.”

“Quiet.” The word was meant as an order, but it came out softer than he intended. 

He hadn’t meant to start off as a sappy romantic lover; petting someone’s hair while they reminisced about their childhood. This was about satisfying some mysterious obsession that he had with the drow; not trying to ‘wine and dine’ him. But, after that speech about ‘callous relationships’ he doubted he could have captured the ranger any other way. And, realized too, that he preferred it this way. He would never be like Jarlaxle, who was perfectly at ease jumping in bed with people he felt no mental interest in; only physical lust. He had to have something more to draw him.

And Drizzt had plenty to interest him with.

However, lest they forget what this was all about, he started to nibble at the tip of a pointed ear, and grinned when he heard him gasp. Poor, virginal ranger; he probably had no idea just how sensitive they were. He really should show him.

He squirmed outright when he sucked at the tip.

“Wha...why are they so _sensitive?_ ”

“How should I know?” He chuckled. “I’m not an elf. Go ask Jarlaxle.”

Drizzt drew back. “About...ah...Jarlaxle. Are you...and him-?”

“Yes.” He said bluntly. 

“...Oh.” He paused. “On the surface...isn’t this considered being...’untrue’?”

“You assume that on the surface everyone follows the same rules about relationships.” He snorted. “You also assume that I would even follow them; if there was a standard. My ‘wife’ if you will, is a drow mercenary. I’m given to understanding that is very unconventional.”

Drizzt blinked at him a moment, then gave a surprised burst of laughter. “I just...was ‘given to understanding’ that this would be very-”

“If it’s Jarlaxle you’re worried about; then you should know he sends his blessings.” Drizzt cocked his head at him when he saw the assassin’s eyes glaze a bit. “He is very...approving.”

“...He knows about you...pursuing me?” His eyes narrowed. “How long _have_ you been pursuing me?”

“Does it matter?” He ran his tongue along the drow’s bottom lip, eager to stop talking and get back to more interesting subjects.

“N-no.” He stammered.

“Good.” He took the opportunity to show the ranger how to use his tongue; and, as Drizzt had said, he was willing to learn.

\---

_Where **is** that man?_ Jarlaxle wondered. He oh so hated to go to bed without the portable furnace that was the assassin; it just wasn’t as comfortable, even with an extra down comforter. He was also peeved that Entreri was forcing his partner to search for him when he was partially drunk and horny and all he wanted to do was curl up around the assassin in a nice, comfortable bed-

He stopped. Then grinned.

Those sounds were really familiar, he could recognize them anywhere: the sound of two people necking in a spot they thought was secluded. He crept forward, willing the sloshing bottle of wine to be quiet; but even half drunk he was a master of stealth. 

He almost fell flat on his ass when he saw them, though, and it wasn’t because of the wine.

It wasn’t _that_ erotic; they were just kissing, but it still sent his blood so quickly south he felt lightheaded. Although, the careful, focused way his partner was treating the young drow was erotic in a new, unusual way Jarlaxle hadn’t considered before. Also, the hesitant, almost shy way that Drizzt was returning his kisses...was both endearing and intriguing.

“...Do you have room for one more?”

He didn’t realize he had spoken until they both stiffened. Entreri made a muffled yelp, and they both sprang apart, the assassin nursing a bleeding lip and Drizzt wearing a mortified expression.

_Damn the wine. And the loss of blood to parts below the belt._

But still, they were hilarious; necking like teenagers having an illicit affair.

“Sorry, was I interrupting something?” He grinned.

Entreri snarled and threw a dagger at him; he dodged it easily. That didn’t stop him from smiling, however.

“I meant what I said, earlier, you know.” He quipped, even as Entreri glowered at him. “Besides, my partner never has any oil on him-”

The last part was directed at Drizzt, but to his surprise the ranger had disappeared. He blinked in confusion.

“Where’d he go?” He slurred.

“Away from you; you idiot.”

Jarlaxle blinked rapidly, sense coming back into his fuzzy head.

“...Am I sleeping on the couch tonight?”

The stormy look on Entreri’s face answered that question.

\---

Drizzt was still feeling a childish sense of embarrassment the next day. He was an adult for the love of goddess; and he’d hardly been doing anything explicit. If it was Catti-Brie or Wulfgar that had caught him he would feel mortified and doubtless would have to offer up a very awkward and halting explanation; but it was Jarlaxle who’d spotted them. Jarlaxle was probably centuries old and he’d grown up in the same hyper-sexualized culture that he had; what he’d caught them at was very much innocent and vanilla compared to what the older drow had seen and experienced. 

He also felt a gripping sense of shame at accidentally biting Entreri. Damn his nervousness. 

He refused to continue to hide, though. He’d run like a coward last night with his tail firmly tucked between his legs, but he couldn’t avoid him forever. He should probably apologize to Entreri; and let him know that he _was_ still interested; that he’d...liked what had happened last night-

Or, at least, he’d liked it up to the point that Jarlaxle had popped up and sent him running like a spooked deer. Drizzt grimaced.

Summoning up his courage, he knocked on the door and announced himself.

“One moment.” He frowned at the sound of shuffling behind the door, a few loud clicks, and it opened. He briefly looked at the door, and arched an eyebrow at the multitude of undone traps and improvised locks on this side, before turning back to him. He almost made a sarcastic remark about if an army really wanted to invade his room, they could just avoid the trapped door and just go through the paper thin walls instead, but he restrained himself.

The fact that the assassin was walking around in just light pants helped keep his mouth shut. It was...distracting.

Entreri ignored him mostly, neatly folding his shaving kit away and starting to pack his clothes. His side of the room was neatly organized; clothes folded and laid out for the next day. Looking at what he assumed was Jarlaxle’s side of the room, there were clothes thrown haphazardly over the floor. He had to wonder why there was two beds if they were...close...but he wondered if Entreri habitually kicked him out of bed for being messy.

“You wanted something?” He sat on the bed and looked up at him, head slightly cocked.

Drizzt snapped back to the present. “You’re packing?”

He nodded. “There’s a trail in Luskan that we’re going to investigate.”

“...Oh.”

Entreri blinked at the strange note of disappointment in his voice. “I won’t be gone long.”

“This is not because of...” Drizzt made a vague gesture; a slightly pained look on his face.

He had a brief moment of confusion before understanding, and immediately moved to reassure him. 

“ _No_.”Entreri sighed and stood. “This is about finding the eloped idiots before civil war breaks out. If anyone is at fault here, it’s the bald moron.”

Drizzt huffed out a laugh; then tensed a little when Entreri came closer. The assassin hesitated, giving him a questioning look.

“I...am sorry.” He swallowed. “I don’t mean to jump. I enjoy what you did for me, what you are _doing_ for me, I am just...unused to this.”

Entreri cocked his head; then pressed close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I won’t push you into this. We can take our time.”

His voice was even, almost gentle. Drizzt sighed in appreciation, and relaxed. “All the same...at risk of sounding sentimental, please do return soon. I would like to pick up where we left off.”

Entreri _hmmnd_ softly, breath ghosting through his hair, and suddenly Drizzt felt him tense.

“You are just so _adorable_.” A familiar voice cooed. 

“Jarlaxle.” Entreri’s voice was flat, and it went through clenched teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping off a hangover?”

“Oh, please. I haven’t had a hangover since puberty.” Drizzt jerked as he was suddenly enveloped by arms from behind. “Why, hello there. You wouldn’t be happening to be trying to take _my_ assassin, now would you? If you are, there’s a ‘finder’s fee’.”

Jarlaxle leered; and Drizzt made a peculiar ‘urk’ sound and suctioned himself to Entreri, trying to get away. Entreri gripped him tighter, almost possessively, and Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, looking very amused.

“Mmm, are you saying a tender goodbye to your lady love?” His voice dropped suggestively. “ _Can I watch?_ ”

Entreri snarled, and he laughed, before sobering slightly. He focused on Drizzt, a gentler smile on his face instead of a mocking one. 

“Ah, but to be honest; you really are quite endearing.” He stroked his cheek with a finger, voice soft. “I don’t know how you managed to retain such gentle innocence in Menzobarranzan, but I am glad that you did.”

Drizzt blinked rapidly, overcome by the quiet, sincere words. “I...thank you.”

“Oh, you are quite welcome.” The teasing glint was back in his eyes now; and Drizzt flushed when Jarlaxle cupped his chin, and pecked his cheek.

“Well, I shall leave you two lovebirds in peace to wish your goodbyes.” He cackled gleefully at the look on Entreri’s face. “ _Someone_ has to get some work done around here; those trail supplies aren’t going to buy themselves!”

The mercenary bounded off, cape swirling dramatically. 

Entreri let out an exasperated sigh, still holding on to Drizzt, although he’d loosened his grip. “Idiot.”

Drizzt gave him a bemused look. “Is he always like this?”

“You mean insufferable, tactless, and frustrating? Yes. _Always._ ”

Drizzt laughed, then trailed off abruptly as Entreri’s grip shifted; going lower. Drizzt looked at him, eyes wide; and he only looked passively back, arching an eyebrow.  
“I will be gone for two days.” He said, voice a low rumble. “That should give you plenty of time to...think.”

Drizzt swallowed. He could guess what Entreri wanted him to think about. He shivered as he licked the curve of an ear, tongue tracing the pointed tip; and this time he wasn’t tense when Entreri pulled him flush against his body. He kissed his way across the dark skin of the jaw to the mouth, planting a teasing kiss at the corner of it. Drizzt was the one that initiated the kiss this time, although he was still easily overwhelmed, and was quickly pressed to the wall. The assassin snaked his tongue into the yielding mouth, tracing over the palate and the sharp canines. 

Entreri _especially_ liked those; it gave him even more of a feral, animal edge. He was sure that Drizzt was completely unaware of how his ease at slinking through the dappled shade of a forest made him out to be as panther-like as Guen; and he was sure Drizzt was naïve of how very, _very_...appealing that was. Entreri briefly entertained the vision of those teeth biting into the skin of his shoulder as he crouched over him like a predator over his prey, and had to back down slightly. Drizzt was as inhibited as he’d been before Jarlaxle had coaxed him into being comfortable with sex; and he was also shy. It might be a long while before he would be able to get Drizzt comfortable enough to participate in some of the fantasies he’d been entertaining the last few weeks.

He finally disengaged, licking his lips in satisfaction; letting Drizzt have a break, and to blatantly admire his handiwork. He was panting, his pupils were blown, and he could feel the beginnings of something promising pressed against his leg. He grinned, and kneaded the ass under his hands luxuriantly, and Drizzt made a low noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. He grinned; thinking it might not be _that_ difficult to make some of those fantasies come true.


	7. Chapter 7

“ _Finally_.” Jarlaxle said, when he joined him near the stables. “Did you finish your goodbyes?”

He jerked when Entreri, without so much as a warning, bit his shoulder. “Yes.”

He started licking it, laving a tongue over the bruise.

“...Right.” He said, rather breathlessly. “We should...probably get moving?”

He didn’t reply; just wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled his back flush against his chest. He sucked at the spot for a moment, before letting go to sigh and rest his forehead against the back of Jarlaxle’s neck.

“Frustrated?” He ventured.

“I want his teeth in my skin.” He breathed onto Jarlaxle’s neck. He shivered.

“Try to restrain yourself.”

“Difficult, when he’s actually...returning my attentions.”

“I can imagine.” Jarlaxle licked his suddenly dry lips. “He’s very...delectable. Tempting, in his innocence.”

Entreri eyed him suspiciously. “...You want him too, don’t you.”

He wavered, before sighing resignedly. “Sorry, my friend. I don’t want to poach your...quarry. I am glad to see you so confidant, to see you pursuing your interest and enjoying yourself. You don’t do enough of that, honestly. But, yes. I do.”

Entreri nodded, mollified. “Apology accepted.”

He pressed his cheek against the back of Jarlaxle’s neck, and mused out loud. “You mentioned his ‘innocence’. Is that what you’re drawn to? Never thought you’d have a thing for virgins.”

“It’s...not that exactly. You’ve been to Menzobarranzan.” Jarlaxle grimaced. “You’ve seen how ruthlessly it crushes your spirit; make people as emotionally flat as you used to be. Somehow Drizzt _survived_ that; through luck or determination, with the better parts of him intact. I can’t help but be drawn to that.”

“Understandable.”

“Also, he is so sweet I could eat him with a spoon.”He groaned.

“Also understandable.” He said, not missing a beat. Jarlaxle chuckled, and disengaged himself.

“We should truly be going. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back.” He leaned over, and whispered conspiringly into his ear. “And the sooner you can ravish him.”

Entreri looked straight back at him, a slow smile working its way across his face. 

“...You mean us.”

Jarlaxle gawped for a moment, and then grinned. “He won’t stand a chance.”

\---

“Drizzt.” Catti-Brie Brie called.

He didn’t respond; still staring trancelike off into the distance. She rolled her eyes. Honestly, he’d been distracted the last two days, and it was getting annoying. 

“DRIZZT!” Wulfgar bellowed. He jerked like a startled deer; and glared in the face of Wulfgar’s smirk. They’d known each other for years, but the barbarian’s yell made him jump every time. It was just that _loud_.

“Head out of the clouds and focus.” Wulfgar teased, repeating a line the ranger had often lectured him with. “We need your help with these tracks.”

Drizzt sighed, and settled down to his work. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Wulfgar and her traded looks, and he shrugged, wandering off to keep an eye out for any potential hostiles. The route they were on was known for goblins, and he wasn’t taking chances.

Catti-Brie leaned down to murmur in his ear. “You alright?”

“Fine.” He sighed again.

Catti-Brie brie cocked an eyebrow, not convinced. “Is it because Jarlaxle and Entreri left?”

He jerked his head up, betraying himself. _Guilty._ She sighed.

“It’s okay.” She said gently. “I understand.”

“You...do?” He said tentatively. 

“Of course.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You were getting along so well with Jarlaxle. It was nice to see you having another drow as a friend; someone who you could talk to about your experiences and be understood.”

“Oh, of course.” He smiled up at her. She smiled back, and Wulfgar came rambling over to them.

“You finished?” He rumbled, casting a look at the tracks. “Thiers no goblins about, but I saw a campfire smoke not far from here.”

He stood, brushing dirt from his knees, and Wulfgar added; “Not that I don’t want a fight; but I’m hungry and Ilenezhara is having roast pork tonight.”

Catti-Brie brie snorted. “You’re _always_ hungry.”

He shrugged. “I’m a healthy man. I have a healthy appetite.”

Drizzt chuckled. “I’m finished; we can now return to the mansion and entertain the servants with your ability to out-drink and out-eat everyone in town.”

“And out-fight; don’t forget that one!” He grinned and they started to move back towards town, Drizzt following a few paces behind the couple. He smiled contentedly at their banter; the warm familiarity of it soothing. Admittedly it did make him long for someone special of his own, but he at least never felt like he was a tag-a-long; they never became so obsessed with each other as to shut him out.

Then he saw two horses with familiar tack occupying the stables, and realized he may not have someone special-in the sense that Catti-Brie brie and Wulfgar were to each other-but he _did_ have someone he very much wanted to see.

Catti-Brie brie noticed the look of elation on his face, and smiled. “He’s back, huh? Why don’t you go see him; we’ll save you a plate.”

Drizzt nodded his thanks, grinning, and hurried off.

\---

 

The door took just as long as last time to open- _how many locks and traps does he have this time?_ -but it wasn’t Entreri that opened it.

“What a pleasant surprise! Do come in.” Jarlaxle practically man handled him through the entryway. 

“I was looking for-”

“Entreri, of course.” He smiled. “He is downstairs, helping himself to the sparring room.” 

“Oh. Ah, well, I don’t mean to be rude but I should-”

“Oh, don’t rush off just yet.” He pleaded. “I have missed your company.”

Jarlaxle’s smile was irrepressible; and he caved. The other drow had grown on him, for the reasons that Catti-Brie brie had noticed. Jarlaxle had already summoned up a spread of food and wine for himself before he’d came in, so he joined him for a meal, chatting happily. It was indeed good to have someone to talk to that understood intimately what he’d experienced at the hands of Menzobarranzan. He could also hear about his father; when he was young and smiled instead of carefully keeping his face blank. He also so pleasant to talk to that he didn’t even notice an nearly an hour had gone past. He really should be going, but there was a issue he wanted to address.

“May I...ask a personal question?” Drizzt started tentatively.

Jarlaxle cocked his head. “Go ahead.”

“Why...did my father never mention you?” He swallowed.

Jarlaxle’s eyes became unfocused as he looked past him, his usual smile fading.

“We did not...part on good terms.” He said quietly, pouring another glass of wine. “I wanted to create my own mercenary group, with him as my partner. He had already been spotted by a matron that wanted him as her weapon’s master; and didn’t want ‘to risk everything on an impossible dream’ as he put it. At the time, I was rather hurt, but can see his position now; the offer from the matron was everything he, a commoner, could have wanted. A place of respect, security...while he saw me as chasing dreams. And you know how ruthless that city is to dreams. I imagine he thought I was a bit crazed.”

“We...argued. Said things we shouldn’t have. And we were both to proud to apologize.” He sighed. “I wish I had. Perhaps if we had remained friends, I could have...helped both of you escape. Saved him. As it was, I didn’t know what was going on until it was already too late.”

Drizzt gently squeezed his shoulder. “I am glad you were friends with him, for a while at least. It is good to know my father had someone that made him smile and laugh at least once in his life.”

Jarlaxle gave him a look of gratitude. “Truly, you are a miracle. It’s a contradiction that you escaped that city with your soul intact.”

Drizzt flushed under the words, but smiled. “It helps if you have a man like my father around.”

Drizzt paused at the strange, unreadable look on Jarlaxle’s face; then jumped when he kissed his cheek again. He also blinked in surprise when the mercenary draped an arm over his shoulders.

“Can I keep you?” He said. “Put you in my pocket and take you home?”

Drizzt squirmed, flustered. He wondered if the other drow had swallowed too much wine. 

“Entreri wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” He smiled at the ranger; coming close to nuzzling his throat, but holding back. Barely. “I’m not even that interested in the sex; I just want to hold you. The assassin doesn’t like to cuddle.”

“...Are you drunk?”

“Only a little.” He couldn’t resist any more. He pressed his face into the soft neck, breathing in his scent. He smelled faintly of pine leaves and black earth; an aroma so different from Entreri’s heavy musk and Ilenezhara’s perfume. It was undeniably pleasant.

He jerked his head up when he felt him squirm uncomfortably. “Sorry; I pushed your boundaries, didn’t I?”

“Only a little.” It was a small joke, which meant he wasn’t too upset. Still, he released the younger drow.

“What do you want from me?” Drizzt asked, rather bluntly. He looked confused.

“To continue having these pleasant conversations. To embrace you and stroke your face; to kiss you and taste that sweetness for myself-” He stopped, chuckling at the overwhelmed look on Drizzt’s face; taking pity on the ranger. “I only want what you are able and willing to give. It doesn’t have to be sex; I rather enjoy your company. But I’d be lying if I didn’t want to be there when you take to Entreri’s bed. And, honestly; he’s rather...intense in his lovemaking. I’d like to be able to offer you some gentleness to temper how eager he’s been to have you.”

Drizzt was glad his skin was coal black; it hid the redness in his cheeks. “Both...both of you...want me?”

“Is that such a foreign notion?”

“I’m used to people coming after me with torches and pitchforks. So, yes, it is.”

“A pity; considering kisses are so much more effective, where you are concerned.” He chuckled. “You are very attractive, in so much more than just the shallow, physical sense. Is it any wonder that two people who are able to see those qualities rather like what they find? After all, it takes more than a pretty face to lure in Entreri. A pretty face alone will do it for me, but then again I don’t want to have good, long conversation with them and just spend time with them outside of sex.”

“...Flattery will get you nowhere.” Drizzt murmured, trying to hide how much this was affecting him.

“Ah, but the truth will set you free.” He countered.

Drizzt finally broke out in a confused laugh. “You are persistent.”

“I wouldn’t be the head of the largest mercenary band if I wasn’t.” He grinned. “So, what about it? The two of us, lavishing you with attention, making your fist time one to remember?”  
Drizzt swallowed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “This is...a bit much to take in at once.”

“Of course.” He soothed. “You don’t have to answer right away; I was only presenting an option. Take your time considering it.”

Another kiss on his cheek, and Jarlaxle released him to clear away the magical spread with a wave of his wand.


	8. Wrestling Is Now Gayer Than Male Figure Skating

Drizzt found Entreri still in the sparring room, doing what looked like his finishing exercises. Again, he was dressed only in light pants, a sheen of sweat on his skin. And he was stretching, his stomach in the air, with both hands and feet planted on the ground to form a perfect arch. Drizzt was used to seeing casual, partial nudity and well-built bodies in Menzobarranzan, so it should be nothing new. But this was...different. _Entreri_ was different. He had a much bulkier, stockier frame than drow, and his skin was that olive hue that all Calimshans had. It looked like it should be warm or even hot to the touch; not like the milky skin of northerners that looked like white marble and just as warm.

He realized his mouth was dry. After two days of having some very...explicit visions tormenting him, he wanted very much to find out if that skin was as warm and inviting as it looked. And after the conversation with Jarlaxle, about having _both_ of them, he was twice as frustrated.

Entreri spotted him immediately, but didn’t talk to him until he had finished. He tensed, wondering if Entreri had noticed him staring so openly and what he might say.

“The trip was unsuccessful.” He said, changing to another position. “The eloped lovers are proving more difficult than expected. I’m starting to suspect a plot.”

Drizzt relaxed. Entreri either hadn’t noticed, or he was being tact about it. After the blatant interest Jarlaxle had shown, it was a relief to be around someone that could show a little restraint. 

_And also not half-drunk._ Drizzt mused, smiling.

Entreri shot him a curious look.

“I just talked to Jarlaxle.” Drizzt huffed out an amused laugh. “He was rather happy to see me. And a little drunk.”

Entreri snorted. “Let me guess: he propositioned you.”

Drizzt flushed. “Not...ah, not quite.”

Entreri arched an eyebrow, surprised. “How droll. He actually managed to restrain himself for once.”

Drizzt coughed. “He...actually had an idea. I feel that I should share it with you.”

“Go ahead.” He said agreeably. He sat on the floor, legs crossed. He looked like he was going to do some breathing exercises; and rather relaxed. Then again, he was probably used to Jarlaxle’s antics and whatever he might say would probably come as no surprise. Drizzt wished he could be so calm.

“He, ah, suggested that...both of you should be with me.” He swallowed. “At the same time.”

Entreri just gave him a bland look. 

“Do you...object?”

“No.” 

Drizzt shuffled, trying to think of something to say. Talking to Entreri felt about as easy as pulling teeth. “Well. That’s...good to know.”

Entreri watched him squirm for a moment, the eyes flat and impassive. Drizzt still felt jittery from escaping from Jarlaxle’s clutches with his virginity intact, and he blew out a frustrated breath.

“I have had quite the day. Would you mind helping me burn off the excess energy?” Perhaps crossing blades with the assassin was a better way of ‘talking’ to him. He knew he’d said the right words when the human pricked his ears in interest. 

\---

Entreri stood, and was about to walk into the adjacent changing room to get his armor and weapons, but stopped when Drizzt unbuckled his sword belt.

_...Wait, did he mean burn off energy sparring, or-?_

They were in a training room, and Drizzt looked just the slightest bit frustrated. It probably wouldn’t take much to turn that frustration into aggression, and...and this was shaping up to be a lot like late night fantasies and all the blood in his body was rapidly draining south.

“...What are you doing?” He said, a little lightheaded.

“Well, since you don’t seem to have your equipment on you-” His gear jangled as it dropped to the ground. “-I thought we could box.”

“...Box.” He said slowly. Drizzt gave him a puzzled look.

“If that’s fine with you.” He said cautiously.

“I’d prefer grappling.” He said, a little too hastily. Drizzt didn’t notice and just shook his head.

“We’ve done that plenty of times. I feel that we haven’t done enough-”

_“Grappling.”_ He licked his lips.

“...If you insist.” Drizzt said, giving him a puzzled look.

“I do.”

Drizzt sighed, stripped down to his pants, and took up the neutral position. He blinked in surprise as Entreri ignored him to get down on his hands and knees.

“You defeated me in this position before. I want to figure out how you did it.” Drizzt shrugged and kneeled behind him, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist in the referee bottom position, and waited. 

“...Whenever you’re ready.” Drizzt said, hesitantly. He wished Wulfgar was here; he was very knowledgeable in this sport and a good referee. He was sure Entreri was not above cheating.

He felt the chest moving under his arms for a moment, before he finally spoke.

“Re-”

Before he even finished the word, Drizzt had grabbed his right wrist in his left hand and yanked the arm out from under him. With a wrench he rolled them to the right, ending on his side and partly on his back, Entreri squirming helplessly, unable to get his feet under him *. He made a few grunts of frustration. He kept him that way for a full count, before letting him go.

“Do you want to try again?” Drizzt swallowed; he hoped that he wanted to move on to boxing. That olive skin really was as warm as it looked and it was doing things to his head. After the...interesting conversation with Jarlaxle, he really didn’t want to get worked up again. He wanted to relive his frustration, not make it worse.

“Yes.” 

Drizzt sighed internally, and went back into the same position.

The second time, he still got Entreri trapped on the mat, but he’d almost managed to stop it. The third time- _he’d really insisted on their being a third time, despite Drizzt really wishing he’d stop_ -Entreri finally managed to defend himself. Just as he started the roll, the assassin threw out a knee and wedged it into the mat, keeping Drizzt from rolling him over. He shoved against him, but Entreri just made himself even more irretraceable by sliding down to lie on his belly. He tried yanking to the left, but Entreri splayed his other leg, making him nearly impossible to move. 

He tried, nonetheless, to wrench him out of the defensive position. Entreri would have to move sometime if he was going to try to pin Drizzt, and he hoped to take advantage of that the moment he did. Entreri did try; although it wasn’t very effective-bucking his hips like he was trying to throw him off wasn’t a very successful move. It did, however, have the embarrassing effect of creating a lot of friction in some awkward places. He grimaced and tried to ignore it, along with the slick skin under his hands, the erratic breathing- _wait, he’s breathing funny. Why is he-_

Entreri moaned.

_-Oh._

He stopped and glared at the assassin; but of course he couldn’t see it.

“You’re doing this on purpose. _Aren’t you._ ”

Entreri stilled, breathing harshly.

“...You aren’t the only one that had to think about this for two days.” He said quietly.

Drizzt used his weight to crush him to the mat, feeling anger, and well...he’d admit it. Arousal. Entreri panted under him; thin chest fluttering under his. Then his eyes widened when the legs spread, and hips arched up to press blatantly against him. _Inviting_ him. He almost let him go, but a ripple across tense muscle let him know that Entreri could always roll him over and put him on the receiving end. He clutched him tight; and then rubbed his groin experimentally against his ass.

The effect was immediate. The assassin moaned loudly and pressed back; like he thought that if he pressed close enough the cloth between them would disappear and he’d have Drizzt’s cock inside him. Drizzt panted, and ground himself against him, his throbbing erection sliding along the cleft. 

“Do...do you have oil?” He couldn’t believe he’d spoken the words; had a feeling that this was probably going to far, too fast, but his cock didn’t care.

Entreri panted, and then made a miserable sound. “No.”

Drizzt groaned, remembering what Jarlaxle had said. _‘He never has oil on him.’_ He released him, and jumped away before Entreri could try to capture him. He rolled over and sat up. He was red-faced and panting, and looked pissed. 

“Don’t need oil.” He gasped.

“I’m inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He managed to keep his voice level. Barely.

“I like it rough.” His voice was a low rasp. Drizzt felt his erection twitch at that, but didn’t give in; shaking his head. Entreri snarled and was upon him, pinning him to the wall. He groaned as Entreri pressed between his legs.

“I want you to pin me.” He hissed into his ear, and Drizzt shivered. “Sink your teeth into the back of my neck. _Take me._ ”

Drizzt was shaking; knowing now what Jarlaxle had meant by him being ‘intense’. But Drizzt still managed to grab him and press him to the wall, caging him with arms and legs.

“No.” He snapped.

Entreri snapped back, literally. Drizzt yelped when he felt teeth close on his skin, and that distracted him enough to loosen his grip. Entreri didn’t flip him back against the wall again though, just kneeled down in front of him.

“If you refuse to take me that way-” He snarled, frustrated “-Will you take me this way?”

“Wha-?”

Entreri rubbed his cheek against the bulge in the material, illustrating his point.

“...Goddess.” Drizzt groaned.

“She has nothing to do with this.” He snapped, yanking the waistband down, freeing his straining cock. He tucked it behind his balls, and rubbed his cheek along the length. Drizzt made a strangled noise, and he looked up at him. The grey eyes were black now; his shadow darkening the features of his face, but he could easily see the hunger in them. He had to muffle his scream into his arm when he took him completely into his mouth in one swallow. He couldn’t help but jerk, making him choke. Entreri snarled at him, but all he could do was moan, unable to apologize. He took him back into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down furiously, for a moment backing off to run his tongue around the tip. Drizzt whimpered and begged, and Entreri drew him back; finger tips digging into his ass, drawing him impossibly close, like he wanted to swallow all of him, nose pressed into the base.

Drizzt kept his mouth firmly clamped on his own arm, but that didn’t really muffle the noises. He let out a low whine when Entreri desperately shoved down his own pants, freeing a dark red cock that was slick with precum. It was a good thing both of them were close; Drizzt didn’t think he could last under this relentless assault. He started to thrust again, and this time Entreri didn’t object, just bobbing with his rhythm to fuck his mouth on his cock, working him closer and closer to coming. He made a muffled wail when he suddenly grabbed his hips in a bruising grip, stopping him from thrusting; and frustrated him even more when he drew away, almost all the way off his cock. But he just looked up at him, and rested the tip on his tongue, in his half open mouth, and slid the tongue back and forth under it, teasing him.

The sight of Entreri, staring back with eyes so dark they looked black, sliding the glans over his tongue, was enough to tip him over the edge. Seeing the white cum shoot over his tongue, slicking his mouth, spilling from the corner of his mouth, made it even more intense. 

His legs couldn’t hold him properly. He staggered to the side to lean against the wall, gasping. Entreri still kneeled there; lips swollen, eyes half-shut, a line of cum on one side of his mouth. The picture of debauchery.

And still aroused.

Drizzt slid down the wall, and reached out. He jerked away, and Drizzt felt both confused and insulted.

“Not...nothing against you.” He gasped. “I’d...like that. But.”

“Is it my inexperience?”

“No!” He panted. “I...want to share this. With Jarlaxle. He...would like this. It turns him on. Me lusting after you.”

Drizzt felt his face heat, feeling a stir in his loins even after just coming. 

“Been too busy last two days to...please him.” He managed to grin. “He deserves this. For his patience.”

“O-oh.” Drizzt stuttered. “That’s...very generous.”

He curled his lips in a feral smile. “This turns you on, too.”

“Goddess, yes.”

Entreri managed to tug his pants back on, but it did nothing to hide the bulge. Drizzt lent him his cloak-Entreri looked bizarrely pleased by that-and it’s folds were enough to hide the stretched material, the wet spot in the seam; and the hood hid his flushed face and the shining streak of cum at the corner of his mouth. Drizzt watched him leave, staggering almost like he was drunk.

“Drizzt?”

He jumped, and turned to see Catti-Brie brie there. “You missed dinner and-what happened to your cloak?”

“...I leant it to Entreri.”

She gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“He needed it.” He said innocently. “He was cold.”

Catti-Brie brie gave him a sidelong look; not believing a word, but she let it slide. 

\---

“Jarlaxle.”

He turned, pleased that Entreri had returned at last. He blinked in confusion; greeted instead by Drizzt-or what he thought was him, until he saw the face of the assassin peering out of the depths of the hood.

Entreri licked his lips. His face was flushed.

“He lent me his cloak.” He said, in answer to the obvious question. His voice was quiet and hoarse.

That...was oddly appealing; Entreri coming to him, wearing the ranger’s cloak. He could probably bury his face in the material and smell the ranger’s scent mixing with his assassin’s musk. He restrained himself, though.

Jarlaxle arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

He lifted the fabric aside, and Jarlaxle’s mouth dropped at the bulge straining the pants. He dropped it back down, and licked his lips again. Jarlaxle approached, his nose flaring. He smelled like sex and the unique scent of Drizzt; crushed pine and black earth.

“What did he do to you?” His voice was hushed. Eager. 

He pushed back the hood, and his pupils shrank to pinpricks at sight of flushed skin and swollen lips. They locked on the streak on his chin.

Seconds later, Entreri was the one making muffled groans as Jarlaxle licked the taste of the ranger from his skin, his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *It’s called the griffin tilt, or ‘roll through tilt’. Google the video ‘The roll through tilt (griffin tilt) and how to defend against it’ to see a play-by-play of what these two are doing. And try not to drool over the two guys in it.


	9. Chapter 9

They didn’t make it to the bed; not that he hadn’t tried. It was difficult with Entreri whining and jerking his hips like that, but then he had started _begging-_

_Jarlaxle, take me. Now. Want you NOW-_

-And, well, with that it was just impossible. Worth it, though he was sure that his knees were going to hurt from kneeling on the floor like this. It was difficult to feel that, however, with the sight of Entreri on his hands and elbows, forehead pressed to the floor. Drizzt’s cloak was spread underneath him, wadded in his tightly clenched fists and bunched into his mouth. He was glad that Entreri was using it to gag himself; he was uncharacteristically making a _lot_ of noise and he hadn’t gotten an opportunity to put a spell down to keep the sound from escaping the room.

_“N’urrrmph.”_ Another unintelligible noise, followed by a very garbled ‘harder’, made him snap his hips. He panted and gasped, managing to stroke a hand down the arched back; admiring the shade of the deep flush under the olive skin. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the hard thrust or the light stroke, but he felt the man spasm around him. The assassin hadn’t lasted for very long, not with the intense teasing he’d gotten with Drizzt before managing to walk here to throw himself on Jarlaxle. He was amazed he’d even lasted this long; not taking himself in hand _once._   
He stroked the man’s flanks and fucked him through it, the clenching feeling delicious; lasting longer and clamping down harder than he’d ever felt, and finally he joined the assassin. They panted together, and he grinned. The human hadn’t even touched himself; coming from penetration alone. It was almost enough to make him feel proud of himself, but Drizzt had helped. He should thank him, the next time he saw the younger drow.

He wrapped his arms around Entreri’s chest and hauled him upright to press his back against his chest. He was still panting hard, shaking slightly, and he held him contentedly. It was always a fifty-fifty chance if Entreri would tolerate cuddling, but the assassin was too far-gone to object.

“Better?” He teased.

“...Yes.” He replied, shakily. 

Jarlaxle hummed and dropped kisses on his shoulder, fingertip tracing circles on his belly. 

“You’ve made a mess of Drizzt’s cloak.” He grinned, noticing the trail of wetness on the fabric.

“Don’t...think he’ll mind.” He gasped, still catching his breath. 

Jarlaxle kissed the back of his neck, savoring the mental image of returning the cloak with their mingled scents and the tang of sex on it. He grinned, imagining the flustered, embarrassed look on the ranger’s face. 

Finally he stood, tugging Entreri up. Usually it was Entreri that tended to the aftercare, his compulsion for neatness driving him, but this time he just wobbled over to the bed and flopped down onto it. Jarlaxle chuckled and got a damp cloth to clean them both off, and made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning the cloak. When that was done he curled up with the assassin on the bed. For once, Entreri let himself be pulled close, and they both drifted off into a post-orgasmic slumber.

\---

Drizzt started at the feel of hands on his shoulders, and almost drew his swords until he recognized the impish face out of the corner of his eye.

“Jarlaxle.” He breathed out slowly. “It really is a bad idea to startle a ranger.”

“It’s also a bad idea to startle an assassin, but I’m still alive.” He chuckled. “Entreri sends his regards by the way.”

Drizzt recognized the familiar weight of his cloak along his shoulders, and pulled it on, connecting the clasp in the front. He flipped the hood up, and jerked as he inhaled the smell on it. His skin flushed when he recognized the smell of both the assassin and the mercenary, and swallowed hard at the other, fainter tang of sex.

“Oh, and a word of advice,” Jarlaxle laid a friendly hand on his shoulder, and then leaned in to conspiringly whisper into his ear. “The next time he asks; just fuck him. It’s cruel to tease him.”He felt his face heat.

The mercenary’s voice lowered. “Not that I didn’t appreciate it, really.” 

Drizzt shivered; and he released the ranger, waving airily. “But if you torment him like that he’ll explode. Really. He’d rather wait for one of us instead of masturbating; he has enough stamina and willpower to go days without it. It’s the most uncanny thing-”

Drizzt choked and shuffled away from him. Jarlaxle just grinned at him, and thankfully shut up as Cattie-Brie and Wulfgar filed into the room, followed by Entreri. The assassin took up a position on his right, and he suddenly found himself flanked by both of them; the two standing almost claustrophobically close. Drizzt wondered if they were doing this on purpose; standing on either side of him, close enough for him to feel their body heat. He was sure Jarlaxle was; judging from the all-to-casual way he brushed his shoulder against his own. Entreri, on the other hand, had taken to absentmindedly stroking his chin, right where yesterday he’d-

Drizzt flushed and felt hot prickles break out all over his body. They were _definitely_ doing this on purpose; and he couldn’t decide if he was horribly embarrassed or...really, really, turned on. Catti-Brie was giving him a curious look, and he tried to shake the thoughts away and focus on the subject at hand.

“We’ve received some from a few leads we have in the city here-” Entreri was saying; and Drizzt snapped back to the conversation. “-And uncovered the real reason the lover’s ‘eloped’. They were captured by another, neighboring kingdom; in the hopes that these two kingdoms would fight so they could pick one or both of them off once they’d exhausted themselves. They planted evidence of the two’s relations so it would be thought they’d eloped instead of being kidnapped to avoid investigation.”

Catti-Brie looked concerned. “Did you find any evidence that they still alive?”

Jarlaxle nodded. “Yes; for the moment they are simply being held. Just in case this plot doesn’t work, they intend to use them as hostages to ensure the other kingdoms don’t attack them.”

Wulfgar tapped his fingers on the table, considering. “Any word of where they are being held?”

Entreri shook his head. “There may be leads in Strahtburg, but I wasn’t able to find the location of the two.”

“So, more investigating.” Cattie-Brie blew out a sigh of frustration. 

“I hate plots and conspiracies.” Wulfgar echoed her mood. “Just give me something to swing at.”

Jarlaxle laughed. “You time will come, I’m sure. After all, they will still need rescuing from whatever prison they are being held in; your remarkable skills at swinging may come in handy yet.”

They went over their plans for the next step, which involved travel to Strahtburg, a two-day’s walk from their current city; to follow yet more leads in the hopes of finding the heirs and rescuing them before their respective kingdoms devolved into war. They could try to tell the king that his daughter had been kidnapped, and by who; but it was unlikely tensions would go down unless the heirs were returned.

Drizzt was still mulling over this after the meeting adjourned as he headed back to his room; so preoccupied that he almost missed Catti-Brie following him. He stopped walking, turning to look at her with a puzzled expression.

“Do you have need of something?” He asked.

She cocked her head, considering. “Nay; I was wondering if you were all right.”

Drizzt frowned, confused. “No, I am fine. Why do you ask?”

“You said nary a word at the meeting.”

Drizzt carefully kept his expression flat and unassuming; she was very good at reading him, and he found it difficult to lie to her. Not just because she usually found out anyway, but because he just disliked lying to her on principle. Still, he didn’t think _‘oh, I was distracted because Entreri took me in his mouth yesterday and I can’t help thinking about it’_ would go over very well. He was also sure that _‘and I’m pretty sure Jarlaxle wants to watch me fuck him’_ would go over just as well.

Which, suffice to say, about as well as a lead balloon.

Drizzt wasn’t sure if he should attempt to... _explain_ himself; he disliked keeping secrets from his friends, but he felt it would be difficult to justify getting into a relationship with both Jarlaxle and Entreri. Perhaps Jarlaxle he could explain; he may have orchestrated the final confrontation, but he hadn’t intended for him to be killed, and Catti-Brie encouraged his blooming friendship with the other drow. Male to male relations were not looked upon kindly on the surface, but Cattie-Brie had been a friend of his for a very long time and they had...discussed the attraction that he felt for both males and females, and she had been very understanding.   
Entreri, on the other hand, was another topic entirely. He had kidnapped Catti-Brie, and had attempted to kill him multiple times (and succeeded once). 

...Perhaps he should start small.

“I...ah, was preoccupied.”He started, haltingly. “With...Jarlaxle.” 

“You two have become good friends over the last few days.” Catti-Brie said, concerned. “I hope you have not argued?”

“No, we have not.” Drizzt smiled, feeling warmth in his heart at her concern over the health of his friendship with Jarlaxle. 

“Then what?”

Drizzt sucked in a breath, hoping his next words would not offend her. “Yesterday, he expressed an interest in...more than friendship.”

He watched, anxious, as she pursued her lips and mulled over this. 

“...He expresses interest in most every pretty face he meets, Drizzt.” She said, skeptical. 

He nearly blew out a sigh of relief, glad she was not loudly condemning this; instead, she was willing to rationally talk about it.

“I know; he is rather, ah...” Drizzt trailed off, realizing he was getting off topic. “I have no illusions about this being a relationship like you and Wulfgar have; nor do I think I am ready for such.”

Secretly, he also wasn’t certain if he _could_ have such a relationship; he had been raised in a society that had such different standards. While he had rejected much of it, sometimes he thought a few things still remained ingrained in his subconscious. Besides, it was rather difficult to get a date when you were a drow; what with the town raising torches and pitchforks before he had a chance to romance anyone.

_Although Jarlaxle never seemed to have that trouble, infuriatingly enough._

“It is just that I feel...comfortable around him. He is kind to me; and I believe he is sincere in becoming my friend, not simply trying to be close so he can...” He faltered, feeling his face grow hot.

He looked up at Catti-Brie, and he could tell she was struggling to restrain a smile. 

“...Get into your pants?” She supplied, smirking a little; and he flushed, grinning sheepishly.

“Bluntly, yes.” He paused, before asking. “What is...your opinion, on him?”

Catti-Brie sobered, and sighed. “You are an adult; capable of making your choices. I do have some misgivings, but I do not believe he would hurt you.” She paused as well, before adding. “And I am also...glad, you are exploring outside of the realm of friendship. You were so...disheartened, after Alustriel.”

Drizzt sighed, remembering. She had obviously been interested in him, and he returned the sentiment; but she was a political leader as well as a friend, and the citizens would not have looked too kindly on her and Drizzt becoming anything more than allies.

“This will not be like what I would have had with her, but I do not mind. We are friends, and will continue to be friends.” He paused. “We will simply, ah, include a few other-” He felt heat rise in his face again.

Catti-Brie raised a hand. “You do not have to go into details, my friend.” She smiled a little. “Nor do I wish you to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I posted to the meme and I forgot to update here. I am so sorry, my loves. For future ref, when I do updates, this is the first place you will see them. http://frkinkmeme.livejournal.com/735.html?thread=64479#t64479


	10. Chapter 10

Supplies bought and plans made, noon found their group well on its way to Straughtburg. They would not, of course, make it to the city until next evening; but they had already made good headway. Jarlaxle amused them with off-key ballads (until Entreri managed to shut him up) and then spent the rest of the walk there conversing with Drizzt sporadically. Wulfgar surprised all of them by reciting- _perfectly_ ,-a few assorted ballads of barbarian heroes. He didn’t sing them, exactly; they were more of a rhyme with something of a rhythm to keep hordes marching in time. The tales saw them through hours of marching, the cadence keeping them moving at a fast, but comfortable pace. When the particularly involved tale of two blood brothers forced to fight to the death to prevent a cataclysm finally wound down, there was silence for a little while.

“...Didnt think of you as a bard.” Entreri commented.

“Oh, I’m not.” Wulfgar explained. “I was a greenhorn; not yet battle tested, so I was not one of the warriors. Until I fought, my role was flag bearer and cadence call. The real bards played drums or horns and sang during battle to motivate the warriors.”

“He often does that as we travel.” Catti-Brie said.

“A good way of passing the time.” Jarlaxle added.

“Better than your caterwauling.” Entreri muttered. Wulfgar snorted.

“Mayhaps I can teach you to chant like a real man, eh?” Wulfgar slapped Jarlaxle on the back good-naturedly, making him stagger forward a few steps.

“At least you could teach him to carry a tune.” Drizzt chuckled.

Entreri peered at him from behind Wulfgar’s bulk and gave him an incredulous look, and Drizzt chuckled. “Perhaps not.”

“I am besieged.” Jarlaxle mourned. “On all sides. By people I once considered friends, no less.”

Catti-Brie rolled her eyes at his dramatics, and waved them to a stop. There was an hour or two before dark; enough time to assemble camp while there was still light to see by. Jarlaxle, of course, made use of one of his many figurines to erect a magical tent. The companions* half-expected it to a purple and red thing made of diaphanous silk, but it turned out to be a plain two-man tent of white canvas. Drizzt suspected it was in deference to Entreri’s sensibilities, as they shared the same tent. 

As he managed to glance inside, however, he noted the inside was rather larger than possible, and he really wasn’t surprised. He also managed to hear Cattie-Brie questioning his ability to even erect a real tent under her breath, and had to hold back a smirk. Wulfgar nudged her and said something along the lines of if she took her clothes off, he’d have no problem at all. He had to clap his hand over his mouth to hold in the laughter while Catti-Brie punched his arm in indignation and Entreri gave them all a sidelong look.  
Jarlaxle also volunteered to create a magical spread, but Drizzt interrupted him smiling. “Ah, but this campsite has a special treat I think you’d enjoy.”

He cocked his head. “And that is...?”

Drizzt gestured. “Follow me.”

Jarlaxle followed him through the dappled shade, the sunlight starting to take on a golden hue as the summer sun tipped towards the horizon. They still had at least an hour until sunset, and in the high of summer true darkness would not fall until at least an hour after. Plenty of time to show the older drow something he cherished.  
Jarlaxle pricked his ears, the sound of rushing water growing stronger the further they went. Presently, just a few yards away, they came to a still, crystal clear pool with an impressive waterfall descending over the edge of a sheer sandstone wall. He stopped to admire it for a moment, and turned to Drizzt, who was unlacing his boots.

“Going wading?” He guessed. “Granted, that would feel quite excellent, but I don’t quite see what this has to do with food.”

Drizzt chuckled. “I have been to this pool quite often, and discovered that quite a lot of small shellfish live in these pools. They are quite similar to the shellfish of the underdark; only smaller.”

“And these creatures are called...?”

“Crayfish.**” He peeled off his boots. “Just flip over rocks in the shallows and grab them before they dart away. Mind the pinchers though.”

“ _Pinchers?_ ”

Drizzt grinned up him. “Oh yes; quite painful if they grab you.”

He muttered something about that under his breath, but didn’t object to joining Drizzt catching them. Despite never having done this, he was quick and agile and avoided getting pinched, tossing the squirming invertebrates into a large bucket. They did, in fact, look similar to the ones in the underdark; which looked like a cross between these ‘crayfish’ and the ‘scorpion’ of Entreri’s city. At least these didn’t have the poisonous stinger. 

It didn’t take too long to get enough for a small meal. Enough for all of them to enjoy a few; gathering enough for all of them to have a meal based solely on crayfish would have required more time and a much larger bucket, but they had rations. At this point they were simply enjoying the cool water, sitting side-by-side on a large boulder and lazily trailing their feet in the water. Drizzt was debating on whether he should whittle a few wooden hooks and try his luck at fishing, but he was feeling too relaxed to get up. 

So relaxed was he, the feeling of an arm loosely winding its way around his lower back didn’t make him start. He looked over at Jarlaxle and the other drow just smiled contentedly at him, and it was that; that single look of easy camaraderie, that made him languidly lean over and kiss him. He made a small note of pleased surprise, before happily returning it. They shared lazy, slow kisses for a moment, before leaning on each other contentedly, enjoying the press of sun-warmed skin. After a while Drizzt sighed and lay back on the boulder, enjoying the smooth, cool stone after the heat and dust of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Meaning Drizzt, Catti, and Wulfgar. The ‘companions of the hall’, as they were so named. ~~that name is cheesier than the whole of Wisconsin, Jesus.~~
> 
> **I have been to a crayfish festival in Mississippi, and there is nothing better than a 1 pound tray of these fresh broiled with butter and a cob of corn.


	11. Chapter 11

Catti-Brie hefted the brace of rabbits over her shoulder, and drew her eyes away from the scene at the water’s edge. She may have some misgivings, but Drizzt was an adult after all; and he could handle himself. She’d leave the lovers to themselves; she had to get back to camp and get these skinned and cooking. The less they had to eat those horrid trail rations, the better. 

Walking back, she nearly ran into Entreri, who was scooping up firewood from the forest floor.

“It’s better if you grab dead limbs still on the tree.” She commented. “Those are usually drier than the wood on the ground.”

He straightened, and shrugged. “Being a city dweller has left little opportunity to learn these things.”  
She smiled a little, and realized how at ease she felt in his presence now. She had long since gotten over her fear of him that her kidnapping had given her, once she had grown into a competent warrior and gained confidence in her abilities. Entreri, too, had changed from a man subject to his obsession with being nothing more than a weapon; to this more relaxed person that realized that being the best swordsman was perhaps not the sole point of his existence. 

As Entreri turned to walk past her, she held up a hand to stop him. “Perhaps you should not head that way.”

He gave her a questioning look. 

“Jarlaxle and Drizzt are enjoying the lake there.” She said, and gave him a meaningful look. She hoped that, having spent a lot a time with a drow himself, he might understand what she meant by it. And, hopefully, did not find the idea that drow males frequently slept with each other offensive.

He arched an eyebrow, and again she attempted to explain. “They, are, ah-”

He waved her to silence. “I knew what you meant; I was merely surprised that you don’t seem to mind.”

“I am just as surprised that you don’t seem bothered either.” She cocked her head. “By him being interested in another man, that is. It is not really an...accepted view outside of the underdark.”

He snorted. “At one time, yes. It did bother me. I have since changed my views.”

As he began moving back towards camp she walked with him; and she couldn’t help but wonder what changed his mind. She loved her friend to be appalled at him when he’d revealed his tastes in men, but it had taken her a long while to get over her unease over the concept of homosexual relationships itself. Before, Entreri hadn’t seemed like the accepting type; more likely to simply stick a dagger into what he didn’t understand than trying to sympathize with it. He’d since become a much more humanized version of the merciless assassin; and she didn’t know what was accountable for changing his personality, his outlook on life, but she wondered what was responsible for changing his view on sexuality-

Of course, it was then she was blindsided by an epiphany. It...made a bit of sense, really. Their closeness, the easy camaraderie, the fact that Entreri let the impertinent drow tease him without so much as death threat...

Of course, being blindsided by epiphanies made one do-or say-stupid things. “...I can guess that you changed your views because of-” 

He bristled. “That is none of your business.”

She cringed. It really wasn’t, really. Then she remembered that her friend was getting involved with someone who might _already be involved_ and resolved to make it her business, especially if her friend might be taken advantage of. She squared her shoulders.

“It is; if I have to wonder if Drizzt is being lured into-”

Entreri jerked his head. “He is not being ‘lured’ into anything. He is fully aware that I...” She blinked, and wished the light wasn’t fading; she could swear that his ears were tinged with red. “Drow have very different ideas about relationships.”

“...You are not a drow.” She pointed out. This could be a cultural thing; but Entreri had not been raised in that culture. He’d been raised in a similar moral background as she and every other being that didn’t live in the underground; and most of society frowned on this, calling it infidelity. 

“I am also not anything like most humans.” He said.   
She snorted. “True.”

He turned to look at her fully, and momentarily ruminated on the fact that he had to look up somewhat. She had grown since he’d first met her; a naïve child and-rightfully-scared of him. Now she was a half foot taller than him- _not really surprising, considering he’d always been runty*, but this really drove the point home_ -peaceably walking with him, and having a civilized conversation. 

_Things change._

He paused for a moment, considering, before speaking. “You are not like most humans, either.”

“In what way?” She asked.

“Most humans would not be so accepting.”

“I love my friend to much to find his differences appalling. Besides, how can I not, when being friends with a drow, by its nature, demands acceptance and tolerance?” 

“...You are a good friend to him,” He said quietly “to be so understanding.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the words sinking in. Eventually she turned to look at him once again, suspicious.

“What is it?” She finally asked, and he notably stiffened.

“...If were to tell you,” He said slowly, “that Jarlaxle is not the only male interested in him...or that Drizzt was interested in more than one male...what would your reaction be?”

She blinked, confused for a moment, before her eyes slid shut and she sighed in exasperation. _Why am I not surprised?_ She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose before opening them again, and eyed him. He was outwardly calm, and concealed his emotions quite skillfully; but his eyes were just a fraction too wide and his nostrils were flared, the beginning stages of ‘fight or flight’. He obviously did not want to anger her; as it would hinder any intentions of...she was hesitant to use the word ‘romance’ her friend, but it was better than the much cruder euphemisms that popped up in her head.

“Why,” She sighed, “Are you telling _me._ ”

“Because you are close friends.” He said, cautiously. “And you might be angry at him, or object to it if you find out, more so if you found out he or I were keeping it from you.”

He paused, eyeing her back. “...He also holds you in high regard. It would affect him greatly if you did react badly.”

She didn’t reply immediately, instead choosing to silently mull this over and watch the assassin try to not squirm. She only thought about it for a moment before the fact that the same man that had kidnapped her and tried multiple times to kill Drizzt-

_-The same man that was very warily asking her permission to ‘court’ said Drow-_

-completely overwhelmed her; and she gave up, mentally throwing her hands up in the air. Outwardly she only huffed and shook her head.

“Do what you will. I would just...prefer not to see or hear anything.” She said at last. Entreri finally relaxed at that, and resumed walking to camp. After a few moments spent gathering her scattered thoughts, she followed.

A momentary pause later, she spoke again. “Of course, you should be made aware of some things.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Should this end badly for him, you will intimately experience what Drizzt felt when he was constantly being pursued by yourself.” She leaned in, smiling pleasantly. “And that being pursued by half the dwarven nation is distinctly more unpleasant than a lone assassin.”

The corner of his mouth almost twitched into a smile, but he was perfectly serious when he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I will keep it in mind.”

“See that you do.” She smirked, and continued on to camp, thus assured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Entreri has been mentioned as being physically small but quite imposing. Mainly so he’d be the same size as Drizzt, (who is a drow after all, and they are pretty small; smaller even than their cousins, the surface elf) so they could reinforce the whole eeeevil twin dynamic they were going for in the books.
> 
> On a more practical side, though, Entreri grew up as a child of poverty and so probably was malnourished, which often results in stunted growth. And so, we get a pocket-sized assassin.


	12. Chapter 12

Jarlaxle trailed his fingertips over his stomach. After a minute or two enjoying the light touches, Drizzt rolled over and looked up at him. “What say you to a dip?”

Jarlaxle considered it; and nodded, shrugging off his vest. Normally Drizzt wasn’t bothered by nudity-the underdark had few prohibitions on that-but the sharp, defined muscle of the older drow’s abdomen was currently dancing in his vision and it was having an effect. He flushed when Jarlaxle noticed him staring, and must have misinterpreted his predatory gaze for apprehension.

“I swear I won’t try anything.” He chuckled. “I merely want to cool off.”

_Not sure if I can promise the same._ Drizzt thought ruefully.

Soon they were both naked, and it felt like a blessing in the evening’s last remnants of heat, but the cool water felt even better. It washed away the dust and sweat of the day, and Drizzt’s skin felt like it could breathe again. He quickly waded out into the deeper water, and happily submerged himself. In the crystal clear water he was able to open his eyes and see the sky above, wavering in the ripples of the water’s surface. 

Emerging, he could see Jarlaxle had not followed him. Looking back, the older drow was still perched on the drop off, right were the shore quickly descended into the depths. It was not too deep-only ten feet or so, and clear enough to see the bottom-but still he hesitated. Noticing Drizzt’s curious look, he smiled back.

“I have never swum in open water before.” He explained. “Generally, the underdark pools are rife with creatures just waiting for an easy meal, as you well know.”

Drizzt chuckled. “I do, and the surface also has quite a few aquatic predators of its own. This, however, is a water source next to an oft-patrolled road. Any predators that once lived here were driven off or killed, and none have come back.”

He still hesitated, and Drizzt finally swum up to him. With a reassuring smile, he took one of the older Drow’s hand in his own and drew him out until they had swum to a sunken tree. A water-smoothed limb arched out of the water, covered in small, painted turtles sunning themselves. Jarlaxle watched, fascinated, as they scattered when they approached; admiring their colors. Drizzt was able to catch one before it escaped to hide, letting him look at the reptile closely before gently releasing it.

“So many things on the surface are beautiful.” Jarlaxle murmured softly; a rare moment when he was sincere in his expressions. For once, there was no joking or teasing lilt, just simple admiration. He crossed his arms on top of the tree limb and rested his head on them, and was pleasantly surprised when Drizzt came up and embraced him from behind.

“Yes, there are.” He agreed quietly.

They contentedly stayed that way, with Jarlaxle trailing his fingers in the surface of water, watching the ripples alter the play of shadow and sun; the shift of the reflection of the branch and their own faces in the water. He had a small, quiet pang of wishing that things had gone differently, and that Zaknafein was here too, able to see and experience the ample beauties of the surface world with him.

_If only, if only..._ He inhaled, held it and the pain for a moment; then breathed out, letting it go. He had others to journey beside and share experiences with; Entreri and Ilenezhara and now...

“Would you show me?” Jarlaxle said, softly. “More of these wonders?”

Drizzt’s watery reflection smiled at him. “I would love to.”*

The sun was starting to dip down now, brushing the tops of the trees and throwing an orange cast over everything; and they finally decided to turn towards shore. Stretching out on a sun-warmed rock, they basked like lizards to let their skin air dry before they dressed. Drizzt wrung his hair out and spread it on the rock, to help it dry somewhat. It wasn’t extremely long-he kept it shorter than was fashionable among drow, for practicality’s sake-but it was quite thick, and would likely not be completely dry when they headed back to camp.

Jarlaxle, on a whim, reached out and ran his fingers through the strands; stopping after a moment to cant his head to look down at him. Drizzt merely smiled lazily at him, encouraging; seemingly at ease with the contact. Despite their earlier kisses and light touches, he still remembered the look of overwhelmed unease when he’d blatantly come on to the younger drow. It seemed laying back and coaxing with gentleness and warm affection was the best way to lure him in. Like a skittish deer, or-more appropriately-a half wild feline; especially the way he laid stretched out, sleek dark skin on dove grey stone.

Drizzt too, was also admiring the older drow, whose skin was nearly ebon black; which under normal light it had a slight purple or blue sheen. In this warm fading sunlight, however, it was bronze; liquid metal on the defined points of him-the line of his collar bone, the tendons of his neck, his sharp hipbones-and a burnished gloss on the smooth expanse of his chest and thighs. It dipped into purple-black in the shadowed parts, like the hollow of his clavicle and...

He flushed, realizing where his eyes had dipped to, but Jarlaxle either didn’t notice or care. He hummed lightly to himself and carded through his hair, cheerfully oblivious. 

He didn’t stay oblivious, however, when Drizzt ran a finger down his thigh.

He blinked rapidly, and looked down at him, incredulous. Drizzt was determinedly not looking at him, however; only reaching out to press his fingertips lightly against his chest. He almost held his breath then, not willing to disturb this peacefully exploring creature as he followed the sharply delineated lines between light and shadow with his fingertips. 

He skirted around his groin-still too shy, he supposed-but the feeling of such light, soft touches was appealing in an entirely different way. He had never been touched so gently before; and when the fingertips were followed by kisses, he shivered and lay his head down on the stone, completely relaxing into the touch. He was briefly amused when he wondered who really was seducing who here, but he his amusement changed to confusion when the touches stopped.

He opened his eyes-he didn’t remember closing them-to see Drizzt’s upturned face, looking anxious.

“I...would like to...” Drizzt swallowed. “I don’t know what else I could do to...please you?”

Jarlaxle practically cooed. Still so nervous, but still so eager. He considered, running a few scenarios through his head for something that would be satisfy both of them but not be too overwhelming. He also wanted something that would be laid back, because this whole experience at the lake made him so relaxed to the point where he would almost rather curl up with him in bed and fall asleep than have sex with him. _I must be getting old,_ he thought ruefully, as he sat up, stretched, and leaned back against another boulder; sitting in a mostly upright position.

He drew the ranger to him, and got him to sit in his lap, facing away so they were pressed back to chest. He was pleased to notice Drizzt already had some promising signs of arousal; his cock was lying quiescent against his thigh, but it was already beginning to thicken and lengthen, the foreskin drawing back just slightly to reveal the tip. He resisted wrapping a hand around it immediately, instead forcing himself to mirror the light strokes he’d been given earlier. Drizzt shivered as he ran his fingers over the lines and planes of muscles, letting out a short gasp when his nails ‘accidentally’ lightly scratched his nipples. He kissed his neck and shoulder, and made his way up to kiss him on the mouth. It was an awkward angle in this pose, and he had to keep him from trying to turn around to deepen the kiss. He had plans for him; and this was the best position for it.

Finally, after teasing him until he was squirming slightly, he stroked his palms over his inner thighs and Drizzt got the hint immediately, spreading his legs invitingly. Jarlaxle drew out the moment for just a bit longer, stroking the smooth skin on his inner thighs and tracing the tendons leading to his groin; watching him alternately pant and nibble his lower lip with anticipation. When he whimpered- _whimpered,_ -he couldn’t resist any more.

Drizzt sucked in a sharp breath when he wrapped a hand around his cock, the other going lower, to cup his balls. Jarlaxle purred, sliding his hand down, drawing the foreskin away to reveal the rapidly swelling head. He was slim and lengthy, like most drow, but he’d kept himself uncut, unlike others that stripped it away to make themselves more appealing to drow women.**  
He murmured his approval, and unsurprisingly he flushed, still shy even with another man’s hand around his cock and enjoying it; and he couldn’t resist making a low chuckle. He didn’t tease him too badly, instead focusing again on stroking him and swiping a thumb across the tip. Still rubbing him with one hand, his other reached back to his vest. It was a tribute to his dexterity that he was able to open one of his inter-dimensional pockets and grab what he needed, all without looking or interrupting his pace. Drizzt, for his part didn’t even notice what he was doing; focusing solely on the slow, torturous pace that the mercenary was setting, his hips rolling in time with the strokes. 

Drizzt started when the second hand came back, coated in cool, slippery oil. Jarlaxle murmured an apology against the back of his neck, promising the oil would warm; and it did indeed warm as it smoothed over his cock. The hand continued lower, the oil becoming almost hot wherever it touched his skin and making him even more sensitive. He almost cried out when a curious finger swiped over his entrance; retreating momentarily, before coming back with more oil.

“O-oh.” He garbled unintelligibly. 

Jarlaxle smiled against his back. “Yes.” The finger circled; teasing. “ ‘Oh.’”

He whimpered outright when it pressed in, slowly and inexorably. He was shushed and urged to relax, and gradually it sunk in up to the knuckle. He jerked when it hooked inside and pressed, brushing against the spot that made him see stars on lonely nights, dreaming and wishing for a male lover to do this to him. Now, that those wishes had come true, it was taking effort just to breathe, much less speak, but he managed.

“L-lower.” He gasped, and Jarlaxle purred as he obeyed. Drizzt wailed (muffled by a hand; like he _knew_ that was going to happen) and shook all over. He managed to keep his hips still as the mercenary toyed with him, but the rest of him squirmed desperately, especially when he added another finger. He thrust them in and out, fucking him on his fingers, and Drizzt couldn’t quite control himself; moving his hips in rhythm with them, trying to get more. Eventually, he pushed Jarlaxle’s other hand off his mouth.

“More?” He asked, breathy and shy.

Jarlaxle hummed, pleased. “More?”

His voice had a teasing lilt to it, and Drizzt had a feeling he might have to beg.

“Please?” He gnawed at his lower lip. “Would you...take me?”

He chuckled; amused at his polite request. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He said, just to make him flush. To his pleasure, he did, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to beg.

“Yes.” He said; voice hoarse. 

Jarlaxle slid his fingers out, and grasped his own cock, circling the head teasingly over his entrance.

“What,” He cooed “Do you want?”

Drizzt groaned, realizing what he should say. “I...I want you to fuck me.”

Jarlaxle purred, pressed against him, millimeters from breaching him, from sliding in. He luxuriated in it, feeling Drizzt squirm against him, the tight ring twitch against the tip of cock; but drew back when the ranger desperately tried to press down onto him. He teased mercilessly, pressing back then withdrawing whenever the ranger tried to impale himself. Eventually he stopped trying, panting softly while Jarlaxle pressed the tip-just the tip, maddeningly-against him; circling a finger where they were pressed.

“Why?” Drizzt asked, his frustration diluted by lust.

“Remember what I said about when Entreri asked you to fuck him, you should?” He grinned maliciously. “I believe you should get better acquainted with how he felt when you denied him.”

The ranger let out a noise of pure irritation, but before he could shoot back a biting response, Jarlaxle grasped his cock firmly. All of the words he might have spoken were choked off as he pumped him hard, and soon Drizzt was coming, shooting all over his own stomach. He was still dazed as the mercenary laid him out on the stone, straddled his hips, and pumped his own cock until he added to the streaks on his skin.

Jarlaxle looked down at his handiwork; the younger drow blessed out beneath him and slicked with two sets of cum. It was picture to treasure, even as he wished he could have kept his hands off himself until he got back to Entreri to ‘spread the wealth’; like his assassin had so generously done the other day. However, he felt it was beyond even his capabilities to sneak back into camp and pounce on the assassin without being noticed.

Licking both their spend off Drizzt while he shivered, he merely grinned, shrugged, and figured he would pay Entreri back some other day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *...Wow. That turned out sappy. Original requester did ask for fluff, and apparently I decided to deliver a metric assload of it. Okay, now for pornz to balance out all the d’aww.
> 
> **Its interesting that some girls apparently find foreskin ‘icky’ and circumcised guys hot. Apparently it’s a thing; especially in porn marketed towards women. Some porn stars actually get circumcised just for that reason. The more you know~


End file.
